


Domino

by TortiTabby



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A little bitty splash of clown horror, Deadlight nightmares, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eventual Happy Ending, Everybody Lives, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentioned Maturin | The Turtle, Mentions of Suicide, Nightmares, Not Myra Kaspbrak Friendly, Resurrection, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Lives, The Turtle CAN Help Us (IT), Therapy, eventually, this will be happy i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TortiTabby/pseuds/TortiTabby
Summary: After the events in Derry, Richie grieves the loss of Eddie and goes to therapy.Unusual circumstances cause a chain reaction and open doors for Richie, doors he didn't know could even open.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 36
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on _(obsessing over)_ this fic since May- I haven't really posted a fic as I've written it before _(even if did give myself a head start)_  
>  Rating may go up as we go.  
> I really couldn't have taken this on without @obsessivelymoody <3 Thanks for being the best beta & for always listening to me rant and rant (and rant) and constantly throw ideas and questions at you <3

  
  
**Therapy is often a matter of tipping the first domino. -Milton H. Erickson  
  
  
**

Richie sighed and drummed his fingers lightly on his jeans while he sat in the barren, silent waiting room.

He was sure it was meant to be relaxing and calming; waiting to see a therapist and spill your guts about all of the things that were fucked up with you was  _ naturally _ counteracted by paintings of plants and half assed motivational phrases, but somehow it wasn’t quite enough to stop his leg from vibrating at warp speed. 

He stared blankly at one of the posters hanging above the chairs on the other side of the room. 

_ “Grief comes in waves, learn to swim”  _

Richie scoffed softly to himself. He had to admit, it did come in waves. Not like he’d always thought of when he’d heard the quote. He thought most people thought of more of a roller coaster affect, lots of ups and downs at breakneck speed. For Richie, it came in waves. Some days it lapped at his toes or splashed gently up to his ankles, ebbing and flowing. There were other days, if he was being honest with himself, most days, where it felt like high tide, crashing into the shore and half drowning him. He felt drenched to the bone, freezing cold and only able to get a breath in before the next wave swept in, inching higher and higher, washing away his surroundings and any sense of reality. It had been an alarmingly long stretch of low tide and Richie was half waiting for the next big drop, half wondering if these months of therapy might actually be doing something. 

“Richie?” 

He startled and shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood up. It was getting easier and easier going to therapy - it was necessary and a good thing - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still the equivalent of getting all of his teeth pulled at once. 

“Ah, good morning, Richie. I hope you’re well?” Dr. M smiled over his glasses at him. He had big sun spots framing his face and his nose and mouth were beak-like in shape. He was an odd little old man but he seemed to understand Richie. It was a feat Richie hadn’t quite accomplished himself so he figured it was well worth every penny it cost him. 

“I’m here.” Richie shrugged non-committedly. 

“Do you want to talk about your friend today?” He asked kindly.

Richie sucked a breath in through his teeth. Not wasting any time today. Dr. M was the one person Richie had been totally candid with all of his Eddie adjacent issues. It felt only right, being the main focus driving him there.

“Going straight for the jugular, huh Dr. M?” Richie croaked and avoided his eyes.

“You don’t have to, Richie.”

Richie sat in silence for a moment and thought of Stan’s letter. He kept telling himself he wanted to live his life honestly. He  _ needed _ to start healing so he could live, for his friends that didn’t get that option.

He sat back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Where did I leave- what have I said so far again?” 

“You told me about loving him since you were childhood friends and that he has recently passed. Your other friends are mourning him differently?”

“Ah, yeah. He- I think I always loved him.” Richie said quietly. The words tasted like ash in his mouth but he thought of the letter and pushed forward. “I’m fine with it being one sided, I mean I was just happy to be around him. He was my best friend. We didn’t talk for almost thirty years and he was still my best friend. I never even told him I was gay- Oh!” 

Richie looked at Dr. M with wide eyes, “I don’t know how I almost forgot to tell you, I came out since last time. To my friends. It was just over text but they all called me anyway.”

“Well! That takes a lot of courage, Richie. How was that?”

Richie looked back at his lap with a small smile. 

“It was…. good. My friends were really supportive. I had to stop half of them from flying here to hug me and the other half made me cry.” He laughed and it came out wet, just at the thought of the four people he loved the most showering him with love. 

_ Be who you want to be. Be proud.  _ He gripped his knees hard and nodded to himself.

“It was incredibly brave. You seem to be taking those words in the letter to heart. The love you have will help you.”   
“Will help with what?” Richie asked, not looking up. 

“I have a task that I would like you to accomplish. You can say no and we can forget that this ever happened.”

Richie frowned at that and tried to glance up but his head wouldn’t move. A tiny bird of panic fluttered in his chest. 

“I can help you with Eddie.” Dr. M’s voice boomed.

“Well I was kind of hoping that’s what therapy would accompl-” Richie froze. He never said Eddie’s name, or mentioned the letter.

“I have some magic left. You following Stanley’s letter so sincerely even though it isn’t the easy route, even though you would rather ignore the world and lick your wounds; that’s ignited something.”   
“What are you talki- how do you know their names? Oh  _ God _ ,  _ no _ , you’re not back we killed y-”

“I am  _ not _ that beast. What is my name, Richie?” He boomed.

Richie shrugged and made a face. “What? I can’t move, I - how the fuck am I supposed to know?” He scrambled to find his bearings. “I don’t  _ know. _ ” It came out as a sob.

“You’re safe here, Richie. What is my name? What is your therapist’s name?”

Richie frowned. Dr. M - but it was short for-

“ _ Maturin _ !” 

Gold light poured around them and Richie was suddenly able to move again. He shot to his feet and floating in front of him wasn’t the old, weathered man he had grown used to, but instead a massive, shimmering turtle. The therapy office faded away and left nothingness in its place.

“Oh, what the fuck!?” 

“Richie. I have some magic left in me. Not a lot, but some. I want to ask if you will do something for me. If you say no this will all be forgotten.” 

Richie took a steadying breath. “Help me with Eddie, how?” 

“You will find an easier peace and I will make sure he isn’t buried down in those ruins for all eternity.” The voice said simply. 

Richie thought about Eddie being left under Neibolt and tore his gaze away from the Turtle. “What would I have to do?” 

“You would need to gather the others and go back to Derry. Burn the letters from Stanley along with the house.” 

Richie’s gut twisted uncomfortably. 

“I can’t ask them to go back to Derry. I won’t. Mike…”    
He could feel the same kind eyes on him that he did in therapy, and grappled with the thought of it being the gigantic turtle all along. 

“Richie, to make this work you will need to return to the house on Neibolt and ignite it. Burn it to the ground and cleanse the fires with all six letters from Stanley. He gave the ultimate sacrifice and his letters attest to that. It will purify the flames. The decision is yours. If you choose not to, I will remove all of this from your memories at our next session. If you accept, I will know.” 

Richie opened his mouth to argue and found himself standing alone in office. 

The receptionist rapped on the door and smiled kindly at him. “Dr. M set your next visit up for you already. You’re all set.” She shot him a kind smile and motioned for him to leave the room.

Richie wasn’t sure how he made it back to his apartment. He stumbled into his bedroom and peeled his sweaty clothes off. 

Once he was in the shower with the water beating down on his back he took in the gravity of the situation and the options in front of him. 

He didn’t have much of a choice. The thought of Eddie being buried under the rubble of that rotten house kept him up at night. He’d have nightmares of the house, of the deadlights, or just of Eddie just staring at him with his big wide eyes, full of sorrow and pity. 

Richie wasn’t a religious person by any means but between whatever was left of Eddie staying underneath that house forever, or his remains being somewhere else, Richie was going to do what he could to have it be anywhere but in Derry.

He took a deep breath as he shoved his still wet legs into a bright pair of spotted boxers that seemed far too bright and inappropriate for his darkened line of thought and fell back onto his bed. 

He grabbed his phone and dialed one of four phone numbers he was already beginning to know by heart. 

“Rich! Are you okay? It’s late there, isn’t it?” Beverly’s voice was hushed but urgent. Richie could hear rustling and a groggy Ben voicing his concerns. 

“Guys. I’m okay I just…” he trailed off and tried to think of the best way to phrase this. If they thought for a second he was going back to Derry he’d be powerless to stop them from coming with. 

“I need a weird favor and I would have hard time agreeing if you asked me but… can I get your guys’ letters from Stan?” 

The other end of the phone was silent.

“Richie that’s kind of personal, don’t you think?” Ben asked quietly. 

Richie sighed loudly. “It is, and I know it’s weird. It’s a lot-”

“Ours are basically the same. I don’t think any of them are  _ that _ different. Why-”

“It was something my therapist suggested.” Richie spit out and immediately felt like an asshole. 

"Oh, uh we can send you a picture of them? If you really think it’ll help you?”

Richie pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I can’t- I need to have the original. I need the copy  _ from _ Stan.” 

He could hear Bev sigh into the phone. “Why? I don’t understand the difference that makes.”

"I really think- I think this will help me guys."

It was silent for several minutes before Ben piped back up. "Richie, I can’t speak for Bev but you can take mine. I'll remember what it said." 

“We can bring them with us on the plane Friday night. We’ll see you Sunday, right?” 

“I’ll come and get it. I should be able to fly out tomorrow.” Richie said and bolted upright to throw some clothes on. 

“Richie,” Bev started, worry oozing from her voice. “We’re going to be there to visit in just five days, you really don’t need to fly all the way here to get the letters from us.”

Richie breathed into the phone for a few beats before finding his barings. “I need to do this. I’ll fly out in the morning?”

Beverly started arguing but Ben’s voice was clear and firm. “We’ll do whatever you need us to do, Rich.” 

It was the kind of softness Richie had been shying away from since he got back from Derry. If his friends kept treating him like he was going to break he would be forced to remember how fragile he really was. 

“We love you, Richie.” Bev tacked on. 

“Love you guys, too.” Richie was quick to find an excuse to hang up before either of them could bring Eddie up. 

He searched around his apartment for the hoodie he was wearing earlier in the day and fetched the keys from the pockets. 

He shrugged it on and thought about his old favorite jacket, now bundled up and pressed against Eddie under Neibolt house. 

The thought drove him to move quicker, bounding down the steps of his apartment two at a time. He finally barked the phone number into his bluetooth as he sped down the highway.

“Bill.” He said when the familiar voice answered with a cautious hello. 

“Rich?”

“I'm on my way over right now, is that okay?” He weaved in and out of the lanes of traffic. 

“Richie, it’s almost one in the morning. Are you okay? Are you drunk… or high?” 

Richie groaned and slapped the dashboard. “I’m perfectly sober, Big Bill.” 

Bill made a disbelieving noise. “You haven’t wanted to talk to me in months and now you’re asking to come over, clearly on  _ something _ . You can always come over, Rich but I need you to be straight with me.”

Richie snorted. 

“Not- you know what I mean.” Bill groaned exasperatedly.

“I haven’t had much to say, don’t take it personally Bill.”

Bill didn’t reply for several minutes. 

“Audra is doing a night shoot and won’t be back until early afternoon. I just…” Richie could almost see him running his hand through his greying hair. “I worry about you- We  _ all _ worry about you, Richie. After Ed-”

“I’ll be there in like five minutes.” Richie practically shouted and jammed his thumb into the ‘end call’ button on his steering wheel. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and thought of what he’d learned in therapy. He took a deep breath in and counted as he held it until he let it out slowly through his mouth. He unclenched his jaw, relaxed his grip from the steering wheel and slumped back into his seat. 

Richie couldn’t talk about Eddie with any of the other Losers. He couldn’t just move on with his life afterwards. He couldn’t laugh and splash in the quarry as he washed Eddie’s blood from his cracked lenses. His friends deserved to be happy that they were all finally free of It’s hold, Richie wanted them to be, he just didn’t necessarily need to see it or be around it for a while.

Richie pulled up to the gate for Bill’s house and was buzzed in before he could even roll his window down. He parked his car in front of the massive house that was warm and inviting and everything the home of Bill Denbrough should be. 


	2. Chapter 2

Bill looked the same as ever with a stern, ready to be the hero look on his face, his arms crossed and eyebrow arched. Richie was not ready to have this conversation and had been dancing around it since Derry. 

He looked tense as he watched Richie climb out of his car. Richie couldn’t help but think he looked ready to fight. 

“Big Bill!” Richie called out, as he tried to ease some of the tension he rarely felt around his friends. 

“Richie.” Bill nodded and narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?” 

Richie sputtered and held his hands up innocently. “I just needed to chat with my oldest friend, is that so suspicious?” 

Bill held his gaze before sighing. 

“I guess we have been friends the longest, haven’t we? It’s weird now, that it’s only the two of us who have known each other before that first summer now.” 

Richie felt like a hand was gripping his throat, rendering him mute. He nodded dumbly and looked down to his feet. This conversation was already wildly away from where he wanted it to be. 

They fell into a stretch of silence and Richie’s shoes were looking more and more interesting.

“You know… you can’t just keep hanging up on me if I mention Eddie, Rich.” 

Richie whipped his head up but Bill was already turned around and walking inside of the house. He jerked his head to the side for Richie to follow him inside.

Richie closed the door behind him and took in the steep staircase and warm log walls lining the mansion.

Bill might not know how to end a book but he evidently knew how to sell one. 

Richie felt like a kid caught out. He stood awkwardly in the entryway before Bill rolled his eyes and motioned at the couch as he fell back into a large armchair.

Richie sat perched on the edge of the couch, ready to bolt if he needed to.    
Things had never felt so awkward between the two of them, and that was including the time Bill punched him in the face. 

“Are you thinking about when I punched you?”

Richie blinked over at him and coughed out a laugh. “How the hell did you know that?” 

Bill chuckled and relaxed into his chair. “You always get that look on your face before tearing into me about it.” 

“What look?” 

Bill wrinkled his nose and squished his face up ridiculously. 

Richie barked out a laugh. “Bill, bud, if I’m making a face like  _ that _ take me to the hospital because that looks like I’m having a stroke or something.” 

Bill rolled his eyes and then smiled over at him. 

“I miss him.” He said and Richie instantly sombered up. 

Why was Bill so fucking insistant on talking about him?

“I know we all do. I know us knowing him longer d-doesn’t mean we miss him more th-th-than the others do but I feel like I lost another buh-brother.” He was quiet for a moment. “I know you miss him m-more.” He said almost in a whisper. 

“Bill-” Richie gritted his teeth together. “I can’t.” He let out a deep breath and shook his head. 

“You don’t have to say it, Rich. You can tell us when you’re ready or never if you want. I’ll drop it, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just wanted to apologize.” 

Richie glanced back up and was surprised to see Bill’s eyes fill with tears. He shook his head violently and glared up at Richie. “I shouldn’t have fucking yelled at him. I got in his face. I was such an asshole. Maybe if I didn’t he wouldn’t have gone down there. Maybe-”

“Bill.” Richie shot to his feet and was to him in three wide steps. He grabbed his shoulders and squeezed them roughly as he shook him. “Don’t fucking blame yourself. You can’t fucking blame yourself. Eddie didn’t give a fuck about you yelling at him. You did it because you were scared and you did it because you were scared for  _ me _ . Eddie-” Richie grappled with himself. “Eddie wouldn’t have left us. He was always going to go down in the well and if anyone convinced him to-” He broke off. The only person who was there to witness Richie’s encouragement to go down into the cistern besides Eddie was Bev, and Richie couldn’t get into it. 

Richie shook his head. Bill sprung to his feet and wrapped his arms around Richie tight. 

“He wouldn’t have left us. I’m sorry we made you leave him.” He choked out into Richie’s shoulder.

“I need Stan’s letter.” Richie blurted out hurriedly. He was working on it, really he was, but he  _ couldn’t _ talk about Eddie being left under the house. He couldn’t think about his friends physically dragging him out. 

He wiped under his glasses as he pulled away but Bill just stared at him evenly. 

“My letter from Stan?” 

Richie nodded. “I know it’s weird. I can’t really explain it. I just need the one he mailed-”

“Okay.” Bill walked out of the room and walked back in with it tucked between his fingers. He didn’t look away from Richie for even a second as he handed it over. 

“I trust you, Rich. I want you to let us help you more. I hate the idea of you locked into your house alone going through this. We love you. Losers stick together, right?” 

Richie nodded dumbly. “Yeah, yeah I love you too, Big Bill. Look, it’s late and I’m beat.” He grimaced guiltily. Richie was glad to soothe some of the guilt and pain for Bill, but any time spent thinking about Derry left him wiped. “I’ll talk to you later okay?” 

Bill seemed surprised he was leaving so soon but shook it off. “You’ll be there Sunday, right? Everyone else is just staying here. I have more than enough room. We miss you Richie.”

Richie smiled at him easily. It was time to stop pushing his friends away.

“I’ll be there with bells on. I’ll show up and be the worst guest you’ve ever had and be loud and annoying while everyone’s trying to sleep and then encourage you all to do stupid things like drink until morning with me. I promise. I’ll be around more.” He added, and found he really missed his friends. Isolation wasn’t making Eddie be any less dead. 

That night Richie didn’t have the Deadlights nightmare that typically plagued his sleep.

Instead he rolled on his side to see Eddie standing in his doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a little pout on his face. Richie caught a glance of the red stain on his front and kept his eyes locked onto Eddie’s that were furrowed.

“Richie-”

“No. Nope.” Richie slammed his eyes shut and recounted a breathing technique ironically Eddie had taught him when they were teenagers. 

Everytime he opened his eyes back up Eddie was there, staring at him with open concern and poorly concealed pity. 

“Okay, I’d rather have the deadlight nightmares, you asshole brain. Stop it.” 

When Richie opened his eyes again he was alone. 

It took hours for him to fall fitfully back asleep. By the time he woke up late and hurried to catch a flight he had forgotten all about it. 

He rapped on the door of the little beach bungalow Mike was renting.

Mike cracked the door open, before widening it to throw his arms around Richie. 

“Richie! What are you doing here, man?” He blinked in surprise as he stepped back. 

Richie laughed and hugged Mike again. “Hey Mikey. Just stopping by.”    
“Right.” Mike said disbelievingly. “You know the rest of us  _ do _ talk sometimes, right?” 

Richie kicked his shoes off and smiled wryly over at him from a cushy loveseat he made himself at home in. 

“So does that mean we get to skip over the whole ‘we’re concerned and love you, Richie’ stuff because I really have cried more in these past few months than my entire life, Mike, and I gotta say I’m kind of over it.” Richie said, and instantly felt caught out by his honesty.

“No.” Mike said and hovered by the loveseat. He stared intently. “I wanted to say that this sounds like you’re doing something specific. The others, they don’t understand. Richie, I wanted to say whatever it is you’re doing, you don’t need to do it alone.” 

Richie shook his head. “I don’t want you to worry about that Mike. You of all people don’t need to go back -” He caught himself and stopped short.

“So it is in Derry. I thought it might be. I can even go do it  _ for _ you if you need me to, Rich. It’s the least I can do. Really.”   
“What the fuck does that mean Mike?” Richie glared over at him. 

Mike deflated and fell into the seat next to him. “It means that none of this- Stan, Eddie,  _ none _ of it would have happened if it wasn’t for me bringing you all back.” 

“That’s bullshit Mike. We promised.” Richie stared down at his hand where a long white scar used to stretch across the length of it. “You couldn’t have known. And you couldn’t have done it all by yourself. None of us wanted that.” He looked back up and met Mike’s earnest eyes. 

“Eddie would be so pissed if he knew everyone was blaming themselves for it. You, Bill, and…” he trailed off with the words catching in his throat but the unsaid ‘and me’ was loud enough Mike winced. Richie could feel the panic building in his chest.

“Look, Rich, I don’t think-”

“Can’t you see it?” Richie laughed hollowly over Mike, “He’d be chopping his hands all angrily and talking so fast we could barely understand him.” Richie felt like he was choking on his words. The loss and grief came to him in waves, and tonight he was drowning in it. He couldn’t shake the image of Eddie smiling down at him only to widen his eyes in shock as he got skewered inches away from Richie. 

“He would be.” Mike said loudly, pulling Richie out of his memory. “He’d give us all an earful.”

“We’d never hear the end of it.” Richie agreed. He thought of what he had to do and knew Mike really would drop everything to help him if he asked. For some reason it was that more than anything else that calmed his nerves.

“I don’t want you to worry. Everything is fine but this is something I have to do myself.” 

Mike nodded and clasped Richie on the shoulder. “Say the word and I’m there. You can have my letter from Stan.” 

“Thanks Mikey.” 

They spent the rest of the night enjoying each other's company and pointedly not drawing attention to the other one crying when they brought up stories from the past. 

Richie snuggled down onto the couch and found he was sad he was going to be flying to New York for Bev and Ben’s letters in the morning. 

He was looking forward to them all spending time together again at Bill’s. 

He smiled into the dark and closed his eyes, just for a second. 

When he opened them again Eddie was perched on the end of the table watching him expectantly. 

“Doing impressions of your dead friend, Asshole? Real nice.” 

Richie sat up in surprise and slammed his glasses back onto his face.

“Oh what the fuck, I don’t have the energy to deal with a Dream Eddie right now.” He moaned.

“I’m not a ‘Dream Eddie’ dipshit. I-” His voice softened. “It’s me.”

Richie scoffed and sighed dramatically at the ceiling. When he looked back at Eddie he looked thoroughly annoyed but also slightly worried. Richie hated it.

“Listen, Dream Eddie. I’m sure you have good intentions but I’m really working on keeping it together and honestly, in a not so usual Richie Tozier fashion I’m doing alright at it, so can you leave, please?”

Eddie screwed his face up and shot to his feet. “I’m not a dream, Rich. It’s me. I wanted to talk to you so the fucking Turtle god let me.”

Richie rolled his eyes and threw an empty plastic cup he had been using for water at him. “No, you just know about Maturin because you’re Dream Eddie so Dream Eddie knows what I know.” He paused. “What would be your not dream reason for being here, then?”

Eddie cracked his knuckles at his side. “I just- I don’t want you to go back to Derry. Just let it be, Rich. I’m dead, there’s nothing worse that can happen and it isn’t worth it.”

Richie shook his head. “No can do, Eduardo. If burning it down makes it to where you aren’t trapped under there or your body isn’t crushed or whatever the hell that Turtle wants to do with it then I’m doing it.”

“Richie, just fucking listen to me!”

“No can do, Dream Eddie baby. I’m doing this. I  _ have _ to do this.” 

Eddie picked up the cup and glared at him. “You’re impossible! And you’re at your fucking friend’s house, don’t trash it, Trashmouth!” He waved the cup at him threateningly. “You showed up and crashed on his couch spontaneously at  _ least _ clean up after yourself.” He stalked into the kitchen and started running the sink. 

Bemused, Richie followed him and leaned back against the counter as Eddie washed the dishes from dinner.    
“Shouldn’t you take into account what I want if you’re so concerned about  _ my _ body being the one under the house?” He growled after a while. 

“Sure, if you weren’t just Dream Eddie.” Richie shrugged.

“Come and help me dry these.” Eddie snapped without looking up. 

Richie slowly made his way to Eddie’s side and grabbed the cup that was shoved into his hands. Their fingers grazed and Richie couldn’t help but notice how cold Eddie felt. He was officially pissed off at his brain. There was a line and making Eddie actually feel dead and cold was crossing it. 

“Fucking subconscious, man.” He muttered. 

Eddie glanced at him. “Will you shut up about me being ‘Dream Eddie?’”

“Nah, I can’t delude myself with other possibilities. It’s stupid to hope I could actually talk to you one last time.” 

Eddie handed him the plate he was scrubbing and frowned, soapy hand on his hip. “It’s not stupid.” He said finally.

Richie shook his head and grabbed the next plate to start scrubbing himself. “It is  _ so _ stupid, Dream Eddie. You know there’s so much I’d tell you. Like how brave you are-”

“You’ve told me that. It’s the only reason I made it down in the sewer. It’s what made me believe-”   
“That you could throw a fence post and then die on top of me?” Richie asked angrily. “Not a huge fan of being what convinced you to go down there, Eds.” He let out a breath. 

“I’d tell you that you were  _ always _ brave. That I have always thought so. That your mom was evil and I hated the way you clung to that fucking inhaler like you did when we were kids. That I’m in love with you and have been since I knew what it fucking meant. There’s so much, Eddie, that I’ll never get to tell you.”

Eddie’s hands slipped on the bowl he was holding but Richie caught it and started scrubbing away at it. “Watch the dream dishes, Dream Eddie.” 

“Richie, I’m not a dream.” He said in a small, broken voice. “I’m real and I don’t want you to go back to that house. I saw you try to stay down there with me, asshole. There was nothing I could do to help. There’s nothing I can even do now. I’m scared. I’m always scared.” Richie could hear the hysteria build and his own heartbeat picked up the pace. He needed an out. 

Richie pulled him into a soap covered hug. “This is too much, Dream Eds. I’m going to go lay back down and try to wake up or something. This is going to go into deadlight nightmare territory and poor Mike doesn’t deserve to wake up to me screaming.”

“Richie-” 

“Goodnight, Dream Eds.”    
Eddie stood at the sink looking small and defeated. Richie tore his gaze away and plopped back down onto the couch. He scrunched his face up and laid in silence until he could hear birds start to chirp and Mike quietly shuffling in the house around him. He cracked his eyes open to see daylight pouring into the windows.

“Good morning.” Richie stretched and looked over at Mike who was studying him carefully.

“Morning. Hey, I called Bev and Ben. I’m just going to fly to their house with you and then the three of us are going to go to Bill’s together. Is that okay?”

Richie shrugged. “No trying to stop me.” He warned. 

Mike held his hands up in surrender. “I won’t say another word about any of it, but don’t forget you can call on me if you need to.”

Richie nodded and tried to blink the sleep away from his eyes.

“Hey, Rich?” Mike sounded nervous.

He glanced up at him in question. 

“I just- are you okay? I heard you talking to yourself last night and- did you clean my kitchen?”

Richie felt his head swim and he was thankful he was sitting. The plastic cup he threw in his dreams wasn’t on the table in front of him like it had been when he fell asleep. 

He must have been sleep-walking. It’s the only explanation. He swallowed the lump in his throat and met Mike’s eyes.

“I just- uh. I crashed here unexpectedly the least I can do is clean up after myself, right?” 

Mike shot him an unsure smile. “Well thanks, Rich.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the wait didn't feel too long for those of you following along!!   
> It honestly was kind of hard for me to wait to post, because I have around 20k written already, but I haven't posted a WIP while I work on it before and I really want to stay ahead so I can stick to a schedule of sorts lol  
> I hope you liked it! Let me know!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a little late! It gave me a lot of trouble this time lol

The plane ride was admittedly much more enjoyable with company. Mike told Richie all about his travels in the last months, all the people he had met and places he saw that he could only ever read about back in Maine. 

Richie gave his full attention to Mike’s stories and would just laugh and shrug when Mike told him it was weird he was being quiet for so long. He was still shaken from his nightmare from the night before, it had felt so real. 

Before he knew it they were making their way to Ben’s house, just north of New York City. 

Bev was already waiting for them outside with a sleepy expression and a steaming mug of coffee as she sat on the steps. The sun had risen a few short hours ago, but the world had yet to warm up. 

She stretched to her feet and dribbled some hot coffee onto the pavement in front of her as she waved. 

“Hey Bev!” Mike walked to her and embraced her fully in his large arms the minute he got out of the car. Richie hung back with a small smile.

“Hey, Marsh.” He said when he stepped up. “Where’s Haystack at?” He brought her in for a short one armed hug. 

“He’s still sleeping. He had a rough night.”

Richie waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned at that. He was met with a disapproving scoff and a sharp elbow.

They followed her through the house to the back porch, Mike and Richie collecting a scalding mug of coffee from the kitchen on their way. 

The deck took up half of the open yard with rustic red wood. Bev sat at the large lit fire pit and motioned to the other chairs around it.

“I’d like to maybe go into the city sometime before we go, if you guys would like to. We didn’t see too much of it on the way in, but it’s just crazy.” Mike laughed, his eyes bright and shining. “A lot different than Derry, Maine, anyway.” 

Richie felt a rush of affection for his friend. “You guys should definitely do that sometime. Go to Times Square, Central Park, go be a tourist this week.” 

“You’re not staying here and then going to Bill’s with all of us?” Bev asked with a tilt of her head.

“Good morning guys!” Ben stood in the doorway disheveled and rugged with an oversized robe tied sloppily over a t-shirt and pajama pants. He looked like the epitome of domesticity and Bev lit up at the sight of him. 

She made grabby hands at him and he laughed before stumbling over to sit half on the chair with her, half on her lap.

“Sorry I wasn’t up when you guys got here.” Ben said, and smiled warmly at Mike and nodded kind of awkwardly at Richie. 

“We’re talking about going into New York City, so you guys could show me around.” Mike spoke up. 

“Let’s go today.” Bev said. “We don’t have anything planned and it won’t be as crazy with tourists as it would if we wait for tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” Mike shrugged.

“Alright.” Richie agreed. “That sounds fine with me, I’m all for exploring the big apple.”

“Are you not coming to Bill’s?” She repeated with a hard voice. 

Beverly Marsh was  _ cross _ with Richie. He wasn’t sure what exactly she was worked up about but he found he really didn’t feel the need to dive into it. 

“Bev, I’m going to meet you guys there. I have something I need–I have to leave tomorrow, but I’ll be there for the big ol’ slumber party. I already promised Bill I’m going to annoy the fuck out of all of you all night just like old times sake, okay?” He laughed lightly.

He could see some of the fire leave her but her jaw was still set and her shoulders were still up to her ears. 

“Well, where are you going? Why can’t it wait - I haven’t seen you since Derry.” 

He winced. Mike’s eyes were locked onto him at the name of their hometown but he just swallowed and shook his head, subtly at Mike and then harder at Bev. He glanced at Ben, who was staring towards the ground with a pinched expression. 

“I love you guys.” 

Bev faltered at that, her shoulders sagging.

“I just have some things I need to do… I’m- I’m dealing with some things right now and maybe I’ll tell you after, maybe I won’t. I just have to do this.” He rambled hopelessly.

“Fine.” She got to her feet. 

“Where are you going?” Ben asked warily. He had been quiet and withdrawn throughout the entire argument. 

“I’m going to go get dressed and then we are taking these two around New York City, and we are going to have an amazing time.” She said firmly. 

They all laughed and Beverly loosened up. She looked around at them all with warmth in her eyes and laughed as well.

“Give me just about fifteen and I’ll be ready to go?” He asked as he stretched to his feet. 

Bev clapped and spun around to jog back inside. 

They were soon packed into Bev’s car with Ben behind the wheel. Richie cracked awful jokes that had the whole car buzzing with exasperated laughter, and soon enough the strange tension from before melted completely and Richie felt back at home with his friends. 

They had gone to the top of the Empire State building, and fed the birds in Central Park. Mike laughed and brought up how Stanley lectured them all on what was safe for birds and would more than likely haunt them from the grave if they tried to feed ducks loaves of bread. They all pretended the joke didn’t hit as close to home as it did.

In the early evening, Richie was laughing along with a joke Ben told, but worrying the inside of his cheek with nerves. He knew Bev wasn’t going to like what he was going to say once he finally got a word in between Mike’s ranting child-like wonder of the city. He didn’t know how he would make her understood, only that he had to. 

“Can you believe these buildings, Rich? I can’t wait to go to the Statue of Liberty. We ride a boat to get there? Have you been? We’ve got to head out in about fifteen minutes.” 

Richie laughed lightly. 

“Sorry Mikey, I’ve got an errand to run but it shouldn’t take me long. I’ll meet back up with you guys for dinner?”

“You’re just ditching us?” Mike said, his face falling. “But you’re not even going to- you’re not leaving until tomorrow, right? I don’t understa-” 

“You can’t just bail, Richie!” Bev threw her hands up. “What the hell! Is the only reason you’re here to get mine and Ben’s letters? You don’t even want to spend any time with us? I thought we were having a good time.” 

Richie’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He could handle a fiery, angry Beverly but a disappointed and hurt one made him feel like his insides were being carved out. 

“That’s not fair, Bev-”

“You’re right! It’s not!” 

“Can we go with you? We don’t need to split up, Rich. We can make a stop quick if you need to.” Ben interjected. 

Richie turned to Ben and shook his head. He could see Beverly already vibrating at his rejection. 

“I have to do this alone, but-”

“You have to do everything alone all of the sudden! Are you that pissed at us? I told you that you could have my letter from our _dead_ _friend_ , Rich. We’d do anything for you so stop closing us out!” 

Ben stared back at Richie pointedly. Bev had a point. 

“Whatever you’re doing with the letters, whatever you’re up to, Rich, we can help you.” Mike urged. 

“You  _ can’t. _ ” Richie growled out through his teeth. 

“I know you said you didn’t want us to know what was happening but-”

“It’s nothing. I just need Stan’s letters.” He sighed heavily. “I need  _ all _ of his letters.” 

Mike gaped at him. “Richie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What?” Bev asked, looking between them.

“Eddie’s letter.” Ben choked. He looked suddenly green in the face. He avoided Richie’s gaze. 

Beverly took a big breath. She pulled Richie away from the other two and looked at them pointedly until they stayed put. 

She turned back to Richie and he braced himself for the worst of it.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and squeezed him tight. 

“You can’t tell me why you need to do this, honey?” She whispered softly.

He felt his throat thicken and shook his head. 

“But you need to.” It wasn’t a question. She pulled back and stared at him. She blinked away a few stray tears bubbling up and shook like a dog. 

“I’ll explain at Bill’s. I just-” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I just can’t have any of you talking me out of this and this is just something that I really need to do. I don’t know if I can- if I can heal from everything that happened if I don’t do this.”

She nodded but looked unconvinced. He knew she had a million questions at the tip of her tongue. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”   
“It’ll have to be.” Richie shrugged. “I’ll be fine, Ringwald.” 

“We’ll meet back up for dinner.” She said carefully. 

He dragged her back in for another hug. “Don’t do anything stupid, Trashmouth.” She said in his ear. 

  
  


Richie felt the warmth of her hug up until he ran up to the buzzers and located the one next to “Kaspbrak.” It felt like he was doused in ice water. He knew without a doubt Eddie would hate that he was there. He had to make it quick.

“Hi, I uh, was-I um, I’m here to talk about Eddie Kasp-”

A loud ringing of the doors unlocking interrupted him followed by a shrill voice that threw him back to the late 80’s so fast he got whiplash.

“My Eddie bear!? Do you know where he is? Come up. I knew that other officer was  _ useless _ .”

_ Eddie bear.  _ The old nickname rang through Richie’s head and turned his stomach. He felt like he was visiting an old ghost of his past, one that always had her nose turned high when he was around and eyes narrowed like she knew  _ exactly _ what kind of boy was orbiting around her Eddie Bear. 

Richie stumbled inside and into the elevator that took him up seven floors. His stomach swam from the vertigo and he tried not to think about how much time Eddie must have spent in this elevator, staring at the reflective wall across from him, surely with a pinched annoyed expression at all of the germs that had to be surrounding him and a head full of knowledge of all the horrible elevator statistics there must be. Maybe he took the stairs. He got those abs Richie ogled at in their short lived time in Derry as adults somehow, afterall.

He reached the floor and paced the hallway, steadying his breath and bracing for the worst. He sighed as he found the right number above the identical wooden doors and raised his hand to knock.

All he could think was “ _ Jesus Eddie, what have you done _ ?” when the door was yanked open. 

Myra Kaspbrak was far too close in looks, stature, and that damn upturned nose as the Mrs. K before her. 

“I knew it. It’s about time.” She sneered at him and latched onto him to drag him into the apartment. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I edited this chapter early so I would be prepared but then remembered I'm way too impatient to wait on it so we're doing chapter four early lol.  
>  **So if you haven't read chapter 3, it came out a few days ago & read that first! **  
>   
> 

Richie stumbled into the Kaspbrak residence. He tried to get Myra’s attention but she was already speaking a million miles a minute. If nothing else it seemed she had  _ that _ in common with Eddie. 

“I don’t think I’m who you think I am, listen, I-”

“The other officer- he wouldn’t listen to me. Just because my Eddie left that message doesn’t mean anything, he-”

“What- what message?” 

She squinted up at him for a beat. “How very rude of you for making me retell this but Eddie left just an awful message saying he wasn’t going to come home and that he had to go. He said our marriage was over. It was all very odd. It didn’t mean anything, though- my Eddiebear is not well!” 

Richie pulled his arm away and tried to gather his bearings. 

Myra didn’t notice, or didn’t comment if she did. “He can get very dramatic, my Eddie, and I counted his pills and he had two more antidepressants than he should have. Plus, however long he’s been gone now! It isn’t right! Do you have more information for me or not? Why are you here?”

“Oh, I- I’m just a friend of Eddie’s. An old friend.” He held his hands up. “I’m not a cop-”

“Why did you say you were?” She gasped and took a step back. 

“Hey, I never did. You caught me off guard before I could correct you.” 

She blinked at him.

“Well there, miss, ever so sorry for the confusion.” Richie bowed a pretend hat and cringed at the British voice spilling from his mouth. 

He watched her look him up and down. “My Eddie doesn’t have friends like  _ you _ .”

Sonia Kaspbrak’s words all too similar rang in Richie’s ears. 

“He does, actually. I’m a childhood friend of his and he needs a letter that was delivered here.” Richie grimaced. It was wrong; he was going to hell for lying to essentially his best friend's widow, for giving her hope when there wasn’t any, but he had to get that letter. He couldn’t let Eddie rot under Derry, he wouldn’t. 

“You know where he is?” She lit up. 

“Uh, he needs the letter. It’s from a deceased friend of ours? Do you know...” he trailed off as she dug around on the table next to the sofa before holding up a white envelope. 

Richie could see Stan’s handwriting in her vice grip. Richie felt a headrush with rage when he saw it was opened. 

“This letter is  _ insulting _ . My Eddie has never mentioned a  _ Stanley _ . And how inappropriate to send a letter like this, name calling and spouting nonsense before committing  _ suicide _ ? It’s disgraceful, and shameful. My Eddie is sensitive. He doesn’t need to read garbage like that. ” She tutted her tongue and threw it down on the table. 

Richie’s voice was shaking. “Hey lady, that’s not your fucking place-” 

“This is my house!” She shouted. “I don’t know what game Eddie is playing, sending some unkempt man child here, but he is acting like a fool. He is going to get sick if he doesn’t come back and calm down. He needs his medicine. He needs me.”

“Yeah, that’s clearly it.” Richie drawled sarcastically, heart beating wildly in his chest. 

She stepped back and threw the letter down to the floor like he struck her. 

“You’re that comedian.” 

Richie fought the urge to scream into his hands. 

“You a fan?” he finally laughed bitterly.

She scoffed and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I am in any shape a fan of yours. My Eddie- he used to watch when you were on all of the time. I hated it.” 

Richie felt tears bud in his eyes. Even when Eddie hadn’t known him, he had to have known there was some connection.

“I wouldn't get a big head about it.” Myra sneered. “He loathed your material. He used to shout at the TV the entire time, heaven knows why he’d ever watch it! I used to tell him it was bad for him, to get all worked up over some - some  _ dirty, _ dead beat comic that was probably gay anyway with the kind of so called jokes you’d come up with. As if a woman with any self respect would be with  _ you _ .” She raised her eyebrows, clearly proud of herself for the dig. 

The gay bit stung a bit too close to home, but he didn’t grace her with a response and just stood dumbly in her doorway. 

“I don’t know how you think you know my Eddie bear, but if this is the kind of company he is keeping he clearly needs me now more than ever. Tell me where he is.” 

Richie scoffed. “Eds doesn’t  _ need _ anybody. He never did.” 

“ _ Eddie.  _ And he didn’t think you were funny.” She shot back.

Richie laughed. 

“Listen, you need to tell me where my husband is. He needs to take care of himself better and if you’re the company he’s keeping he’s going to end up  _ dead _ .”

Richie swayed on his feet. He would not throw up on the ugly area floor rug that he severely doubted Eddie had any say on. 

He would  _ not _ throw up. 

“Get out." He couldn't move. 

"That's it! I’m calling the cops.” Myra bellowed after a minute and stormed out of the room to fetch her phone. 

Richie unfroze and grabbed Stan’s letter. He shoved a lamp off of the table as he went, and was disappointed at the lack of satisfaction it shattering to the floor brought him.

Myra screamed into the phone in the other room like he was murdering her.

He hurried out of the building, taking the stairs down so he couldn’t be stopped. Once he was outside he kept running until he was far enough away that he didn’t think she’d follow him. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried to text Bev, fighting with his trembling hands until he finally punched her icon and called her. 

“I need you to come and get me, right now.” He gasped. 

“Okay. Okay, breathe, Rich. Was she-”

“Bev.” He said in a tiny voice. “She wouldn’t stop talking about how sick he’d be out in the world without his pills- she- she called him ‘ _ Eddie bear’ _ .”

“Fucking clown ruining our lives.” Bev spat. “Are you okay?” She asked as an afterthought. 

“I’m ye- no. No, I’m not. I’m trying to be. I’m more okay than when we left Derry, but I’m not.” He said honestly.

He could hear her talking to Mike and Ben and their worried voices in the background but he tuned them out.    
“Okay, we’re on our way and then we’re going back to the house.”

“No, Mike-”

“Says he’s seen enough.” Bev said firmly and Richie lost any wind that was left in his sails to argue. 

The drive back to Ben’s massive award winning house was tense and quiet, save for the other three quietly whispering around Richie, who had his forehead pressed against the cool car window. 

He watched with detached interest as his breath fogged up the window, and then cleared it with each exhale. 

“What the fuck, Richie?” 

Richie jumped at the voice and glanced wearily over to who it belonged to. 

Eddie was twisted to face Richie in his seat that was previously empty, the last time Richie had looked. Richie awkwardly steered his mind away from the confession from the night before. It was fine, Eddie wasn’t real anyway. Plus, judging by the purple shade of Eddie’s glowering face, there were more pressing matters.

“That was not cool, man.” Eddie snapped. “I don’t want you sticking your nose into my marriage and breaking my shit? Really, Rich?”

Mike and Ben continued their discussion animatedly, with no indication that Eddie or Richie were there. 

Eddie’s chest, with his unbeating heart, still heaved as he swallowed breath after breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m going to do what I have to do, Eds. I didn’t want to go there, trust me. I didn’t exactly have a good time.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “You’re such an asshole.” He gesticulated wildly. “I cannot believe you would-”

“Woah, there Eds, calm down.” 

“Calm- You want me to calm down? You just technically harassed my widow.”

Richie was unable to shut his mouth off, the words kept pouring out like a fountain. “Well it sounds like she wasn’t going to be a widow because she wasn’t going to be a _wife_ , so excuse me for not taking your heartbreak to heart.”

“Fuck you.” Eddie spat. “It’s fucking embarrassing. You had no right to go there.”

“Eds, come on, she’s-”

“Don’t, Richie.” 

They fell into an awkward silence. Richie took the opportunity to gaze at Eddie. His eyebrows were shadowing his eyes and the scowl on his face pushed his forehead up in wrinkles. He was practically vibrating with anger. It was all overwhelmingly 'Eddie'.  
  
“Dream Eddie you were so much more zen last time, can you please chill the fuck out I’ve had a really awful day.” 

"Fuck off dude, I'm dead."

Richie slumped back against the window feeling as though his chest was splintering apart. 

"Yeah." He whispered. 

“Rich? Richie?” Mike cupped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “We’re back at the house. Man, you were really out.” 

He searched Richie’s face, concern written on his own.

“I’m fine, Mikey.” Richie ducked out of his reach and climbed out of the car. 

“Was she-”

“Look, I don’t necessarily feel like chatting about it.” The words came out harsher and snappier than they had been sitting in his mouth, but once it was out there Richie let it be. 

The other two turned around.

“Richie, I don’t think that’s fair.”

“He was our friend too.” Bev whispered, hurt.

Richie whirled to face her but Ben spoke up before he could string a sentence together.

“It’s not the same thing.” He said quietly, looking anywhere but Richie. He shrugged when they all zeroed in on him, Richie opening and closing his mouth like some kind of unfortunately hairy big toothed fish. 

“It’s  _ not _ .” Ben said again, resoundingly. Bev fell silent and squeezed Richie’s arm. 

Richie tried to bark out a disbelieving scoff, to laugh it all off, but it left his chest gasped and rattled. 

They waited and all watched him carefully. His skin itched with it.

He floundered for something, anything to say. Was it that obvious? Could they tell all along? 

He thought about Dream Eddie and how angry he looked with his dark eyebrows shadowing his eyes and his whole face pulled into a scowl, eyes daring Richie to say the wrong fucking thing- oh God, how could he ever think he  _ wasn't _ obvious.

"I-" he choked out but faltered. If they didn't all know before they sure as hell did now.

“Let’s go get a hot drink, and put some logs in that fireplace I saw.” Mike suggested. 

"You don't have to talk about any of it, Rich. Come on."

Richie walked inside of Ben’s house with Bev’s hand still on his arm and someone else’s on his back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was a bit darker and down but I promise there's lots of light at the end of the tunnel ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Richie tried to choke down the hot chocolate Mike made him before beckoning over to the fireplace where Bev and Ben sat awkwardly, but with encouraging smiles plastered on their faces. 

Bev opened and closed her mouth before settling for blowing on her hot chocolate. Ben avoided Richie’s gaze, his neck flushed red up to his ears. 

_ “It’s different” _ rang through Richie’s mind in Ben’s voice. 

“I’m going to bed.” He groaned and pushed himself to his feet. 

“Sleep well, Rich.” Mike called out softly. The other two started to chime in with their goodnights but Richie just waved them all off with a soft “love you guys,” before he ducked into the hall. He picked a room to dive into at random once he was inside and sagged against the door behind him when it happened to be the one his lonely bag was dumped in. 

“Fuck this. Fuck today. Fuck Myra fucking Kaspbrak.” He muttered and kicked his shoes off on the way to the bed.

He fell face forward into the sheets. He yelled, muffled into them. 

He pushed his glasses off of his face and flung them across the bedsheets. 

The blankets were bunched around under his legs so he grabbed blindy for something to cover up with. 

He sighed into the dark and tried to will his heart to stop racing.

“You’re going to break your glasses, genius.” 

Richie’s eyes snapped open at the amused voice but he couldn’t make himself look. He didn’t even know how to picture Stanley as an adult. 

“Richie.” The voice chastised impatiently. “Come on, you looked at Eddie.”

Riche rolled over and threw his arms in the air. “Yeah, asshole, I haven’t even seen you since we were teenagers! I saw Eddie a few months ago!”

“So I’ve heard.” Stan shot back wryly. He was sitting at the chair next to the window with his leg crossed over the other and an elbow resting on top. He rested his chin in his hand. 

Richie scrambled for his glasses from across the bed.

He slammed them on his face and blinked over at his old friend. 

He looked every bit like the Stan Uris in Richie’s head except his hair was darker than it had been when he was a kid. 

The same shrewd, annoyed expression was on his face. 

“What are you doing, Rich?”

Richie blanched. “What do you mean what am I doing? You should know what the Turtle said. You’re the one that’s the dream-”

The little plastic cup from Mike’s house popped into his head. “Or a ghost.” He shrugged with a sigh. 

“Not about the letters. Why are you pushing everyone away? Eddie’s dead, Rich. Don’t you think you should lean on each other?”    
“First of all fuck you for just  _ saying _ it like that. Also, ‘not about the letters’- Stan I think we’re all a little fucked up about you, too.”

“Right.” Stan had the grace to look flustered but didn’t move from his spot. “So even more reason for you guys to be there for each other. Let them be there for you. I don’t think going back to Derry’s a good idea, Rich.”

“No, I’m going. I don’t care what happens, Stan, if Eds-”

“ _ Eddie- _ ,” A voice cracked from the other side of the room as the man himself stepped out of seemingly nowhere, “-already told you to just leave it!”

“I can feel that it’s the right thing to do.” Richie argued down at his lap. “I don’t want to be the guy pissing off all of my dead friends, but I can tell that this is what I should do.” He glanced up helplessly at them. “I have to do it. For you guys, and for me.” 

Stan nodded to himself. “Well, I think it’s a bad idea. But I wish I could help you. In any way.” 

“Help you stop being a dick.” Eddie added on. 

Stan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “God, you two are insufferable.” 

Richie stared at Eddie and tried to think of what to say. 

_ ‘I got your letter.’ _

_ ‘So I met Myra-’ _

_ ‘Eddie bear? Really?’ _

“Uh, Eds,-” 

The room fell away as soon as he spoke, taking Eddie and Stan with it. 

Richie fumbled with the bedsheets and finally managed to climb to his feet when he realized he wasn’t standing at all. 

He was floating.

Three blinding lights spun in the distance and Richie tried to slam his eyes shut but he knew it was too late. 

Screaming echoed off of the cistern walls. If he strained he could hear the clown’s deranged laughter in the background.

“Richie!” He could hear thirteen year old Eddie screaming for him somewhere lost in the maze of the sewers. The snapping sound of a broken arm being set rang in his ears. 

His vision was completely obscured by the deadlights that had gotten closer. 

He could hear the horrors, though. Hear his friends screaming for his help, screaming in pain. They were forty and thirteen all at once. He could hear himself screaming broken and desperately for Eddie, and knew somewhere he was gone. 

He could smell the rot of the sewer, and the rot of Derry itself. The iron smell of blood was thick and heavy and he choked with it. 

He could smell something else, something foul. 

It smelled worse than the sewer. 

He knew it had to be the clown. 

The lights kept blinding him as he tried frantically to see where the stench was coming from but it was useless.

He could hear the clown stifling it’s laughter. It was close.

He felt a hot breeze against his face and froze. He felt it again, closer, and realized with a sick twist of horror it was It’s  _ breath _ on his  _ face _ . 

Richie’s eyes snapped open. He was laying in the guest bed at Ben’s house, chest heaving and covered with sweat. He realized he had been yelling and was thankful that nobody came running. Hopefully that meant it hadn’t been happening for very long. 

He sat up and felt around the sheets for his glasses before he realized he was wearing them. 

“Oh, you’re fucking losing it, Tozier.” He muttered and climbed out of bed, eager to get out of the room as if distancing himself from where he dreamt of the deadlights would make it haunt him any less. 

He quietly creeped through the house and let himself out the back door as silently as possible. 

He successfully closed it behind him and sagged with relief.

“Richie?” 

He clutched at his heart and turned around to glare at Bev. “Jesus, Ringwald you trying to kill me?”

She didn’t smile. 

“Not sleeping well?”    
He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s not really something I do these days.” He pulled out the chair next to her and slumped into it.

“I guess that’s just our reality now, right? I’m guessing that’s why you’re up too?” 

Bev bit at her bottom lip and screwed her face up but didn’t answer.

“Bev?”

She shook her head again and glared into the distance.

Richie felt caught out by the coldness coming from her. 

He wrung his hands together and tried to think of an excuse to go back inside when she scoffed quietly to herself. 

“I didn’t have a nightmare. Ben did.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” She repeated dumbly. 

Richie’s heart panged in his chest. He slid his chair back and made to go inside. Beverly being this cold to him felt like a particular flavor of nightmare he wasn’t apt to deal with twice in one night. 

“Rich, wait.” She sighed. “Sit, sit, come on.”

Richie sat and stared at her. 

“I’m sorry Ben is having nightmares, Bev. I’m not exactly dreaming of rainbows and butterflies.” 

She shot him another dirty look.

“Yeah, Richie, I know you’re having a hard time. You’re not the only one.” 

_ ‘He was our friend too.’  _ The argument from earlier rang in his ears and he desperately wished he would have gotten away when he had the chance. 

“Bev-”   
“Let me finish.” She took a deep breath. “Ben has nightmares every single night.” 

She stared into Richie’s eyes who found it in himself not to argue that yeah, he did too. 

“Richie, Ben has nightmares about  _ you _ .” 

It was silent for a beat.

Richie screwed his face up in confusion. "What?  _ Why _ ?"

Bev rolled her eyes. "Neibolt." She said simply. 

Richie floundered. "I don't get it, Bev. I have nightmares too. I actually just had a really bad one so if we could-"

" _ No _ . No, you don't get to just be like this Richie! Ben has nightmares every single night about dragging your unwilling ass out of It's lair as it was coming down so that you didn't  _ die _ ! And you just act like you did die anyway! I'm tired of feeling like I've lost three of my friends when one of them is still here." Her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

Richie gaped at her. "...Oh. I-"

Bev waved her hand. "I shouldn’t have said anything. Ben didn't want me to. Put yourself in his place, Rich."

Richie tried to imagine pulling a friend, someone who was basically family, away from certain death. He knew he had been kicking and screaming the whole way. Mike and Ben grappled with him all the way out to the street. He thought of the alternative and what had to be on their minds, what it had to have looked like.

"I didn't want to  _ die _ . I just didn't- I couldn't leave him. I hate that I left him, Bev. I hate it." He said desperately.

"Honey, I think if you can… you need to tell Ben that." Her face and voice had softened. 

"I miss you, Trashmouth. I feel like I barely got any of you back and then It took you all away again. I know you're hurt but I want to help you." She blinked the tears back and Richie watched as a few escaped and rolled down her pale cheeks. 

"I'm sorry, Bev." He croaked. "I've been telling myself I'm doing good. I went to therapy, I came out to you guys… I've been trying to live honestly but I guess I'm doing a shit job at it if I can't even look any of you in the eye. I  _ love _ you guys." He said quietly, with feeling. 

Bev shrugged. "You can start now. We love you too, Trashmouth. We'd drop anything for you."

He nodded before launching himself at her, throwing his big arms around her tiny frame and squeezing. 

"God I love you. All of you. I'm just a giant jackass."

Bev laughed into his hair. 

"We know." She said cheerfully. 

He stood up and wiped under his eyes. 

“These nightmares I’ve been having, though-” Bev glared up at him and jabbed him in the chest. 

“Yeah about that, if only you knew somebody else who had to experience deadlight nightmares. Don’t tell me that’s not what’s happening, Richie, I’m not stupid.”

Richie sagged back into his chair and ran his hands over his face. 

“I’m sorry, Bev. I’ll let you guys in more. It’s been hard. Talking to the four of you just reminds me of who I can’t talk to sometimes and then I just spiral about him all over again. I know that’s not fair.” 

Bev was studying him with a concerned face but it was a voice in the hallway that spoke up first.

“Everything okay?” 

Ben looked small and timid in his own house and Richie was suddenly hyper aware of the way his eyes dodged Richie’s at all cost. 

Bev made some transparent excuse neither of them bought and squeezed past them to go back inside. She pecked Ben on the cheek at the door.

“I love you both.” She stayed until Richie’s eyes locked onto hers.

“Ben.”

Ben sighed and took Bev’s empty seat.

“She told you? You don’t need to worry about it, Rich. It isn’t your fault.”

Richie could understand all at once how Bev had gotten so angry with him.

“No, fuck that, Haystack. I’m your friend and I gave you fucked up trauma to go through and have been radio silent since. That isn’t okay, no matter what I’m going through.” 

Ben’s tired eyes finally met Richie's. 

“Richie, I’m not mad at you.” 

“I’m mad at me.” Richie shot back snidely, feeling like the whiny thirteen year old he was when the two of them became friends in the first place. 

“It isn’t your fa-”

“I didn’t want to die. I don’t. I can see it sounded that way and maybe in the moment… I just couldn’t think past leaving him down there, Ben. I’m glad I didn’t die down there. Despite everything else, you and Mike saved my life. I’m sorry there’s so much bullshit stacked on top of that that I have never thanked you guys, but I am. Thankful.”

Ben reached out and grabbed Richie’s wrist. 

“Rich, I don’t know what I would have done if it was Beverly. I think I’d want to stay down there and fight against you all just as hard. I feel guilty. I feel guilty that I get to have this,” He looked down and continued in a voice so quiet Richie had to lean forward to hear it. “I get to have this but you don’t.”

Richie felt caught out and cold all over, but at the same time it felt comforting to hear it said so clearly. That the extent to what Richie had lost hadn’t gone unnoticed even as his dirty little secret. 

“I wouldn’t have had it anyway, he was married to a woman.” he whispered. 

Ben just shook his head and squeezed Richie’s arm. “I can’t say which way he loved you but I know he did, Rich.” His shoulders trembled and Richie realized he was crying. 

“I wish he knew how much I loved him. The right way, not the way that his mom did, or his wife who I’m sure means well but really was too much of a blast from the past for me, but just for him.”

“I think he did.” Bev said softly from where she reappeared at the doorway. Her eyes were red and watery. She wiped at her face with her sleeve and then knocked her head back towards the house. “Let’s go back to bed. We all need it.”

Ben turned towards Richie, his eyes bright and kind, if not bloodshot. “Hey, Rich, we have a king size bed and I think the only way to kick these nightmares is for a Loser’s sleepover. What do you think?” 

Richie tossed his head back and laughed softly, his breath visible in the cold night.

“I think we’ll make poor Mikey feel left out.” 

“Mike’s up.” Bev said with a smile. “He woke up when, uh- I’ll go get him.” She darted off and Richie looked at Ben wryly.

“Was I screaming?” 

Ben laughed humorously and patted him on the shoulder. “Uh, yeah. You were.”

“Oh god. Loud?”

Ben nodded as they walked inside and up the spiraling staircase to the master. “Pretty loud, but I was already awake.” 

Beverly was already situated in the middle of the bed, Mike already snoring lightly at the edge of the bed next to her. 

She held her arms open wide at Richie and laughed when he dove into them. Ben layed down on Richie’s other side and pulled the blankets over the four of them. 

It felt just like when they were kids, piled onto one bed with awkward bony limbs in every direction. 

Richie felt the emptiness of where the other three would be but didn’t let it choke him this time. 

Bev rubbed his arms and snuggled in at his side. 

“You’re going to Maine tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.” Richie whispered back and clutched her hand. 

“You’re not doing anything dangerous or stupid?” 

Richie laughed softly. 

“Nothing more than usual, Bevvy. Just a quick errand in Bangor to see my Uncle.”

Ben hummed behind him, seemingly accepting his bold faced lie. 

“Alright, Trashmouth.” Bev said. He wasn’t sure he sold it quite so well to her but when he rolled to face her she had a smile on her face. “Goodnight.” 

He slept uninterrupted the rest of the night. When he woke up, it was in an entanglement of limbs and the warm sun shining in through the window, bright. 


	6. Chapter 6

Richie wished he could still be back with his friends in New York still. Sitting around Ben’s artsy, misshapen breakfast table with warm mugs of coffee in their hands and sleep still crusted in their eyes. 

He had woken up early in the morning feeling better than he had in years, far before Derry 2.0. Bev’s arm was around his middle and Ben had an arm linked through his, snoring softly. Richie smiled to himself and let himself drift off for a while longer. By the time he let himself roll out of bed he had to throw all of his things into his bag and rush out of the door to make his flight. 

“You sure you got everything?” Ben searched his face worryingly as Richie shoved his shoes onto his feet.

“I’m sure.”

“Are you positive that you don’t want company? It’s been a long time but I think Maggie was always pretty fond of us.” Bev smirked from the entryway.

“That’s just because none of you could be the annoying friend, because I claimed that role.” Richie said. She snorted in response. 

“Be careful Rich.” Mike said.

“I’m good, guys. I’ll see you at Bill’s in no time, okay?”   
“Just bring our letters back when we meet up then and be careful, okay?” Bev pulled him into a hug.

Richie avoided their eyes and rushed through the rest of his goodbyes. 

Derry looked the same as it had when he was there last. The streets were barren and as desolate as ever and even without an evil space clown, or mental institution escapee—hopefully—it still felt forbidden and wrong to be there. 

Richie had never really known Derry without his friends. He moved when he was eighteen, leaving Eddie, Mike and Stan behind but promising to call, not unlike Bill, Ben and Beverly. He figures he must have forgotten before he had even left the state. 

In any way, it felt wrong to be driving down the streets alone. A morbid thought came to his mind and he swiftly pulled over to catch his breath. 

He  _ wasn’t _ the only Loser that was in Derry. He was just the only living one. 

He swallowed and stared hard in the direction of Neibolt street. He couldn’t see it from where he had parked but he could feel it, just like he always had. 

  
  


“We killed It. It’s dead.” Richie murmured to himself and shook his body out. “What the fuck. What the fuck, Maturin. Burn a fucking house down? If I see one red nose I’m going to burn this entire goddamn  _ town _ down.”

He sighed and stared at his reflection in the rear view mirror. 

He was originally going to try to do it the next day after resting but the second he stepped into Derry he knew he would do it within the next twenty four hours or he’d lose any ability to do it at all. 

He thought again of Eddie, under the rubble and debris of Neibolt house. 

He dug into his bag and pulled out six weathered copies of Stan’s letter. 

He thought about how in Stan’s last moments he had sat down and tried his best to make sure his closest friends understood his decision. 

Richie unfolded the nearest one and felt a pang of fondness for his old friend at the sight of  _ ‘Dear Losers _ ’ scrawled at the top. It was the same handwriting he used to look over at and try to copy in class all growing up, much to Stan’s chagrin. 

_ ‘Be who you want to be. Be Proud. If you find someone worth holding onto, never fucking let them go.’  _

Richie crumpled the letter closed and jammed the key back into the ignition. 

He arrived at the old kissing bridge before he had time to second guess himself. 

He could feel the tears well up as he parked and hurried over to the bridge. He found the initials far faster than he had any right to. It had been twenty odd years since he had seen them. Ever since he carved them he steered clear, terrified someone would put the R and E together and know how he felt. Eddie used to lose his temper constantly at all of Richie’s alternative routes, always thinking it was just another way for Richie to mess with him—which was always a bonus, no matter how paranoid Richie was that Eddie would realize none of the routes included the kissing bridge. 

His pocket knife flipped out easily as he carved over the letters he engraved as a lovesick thirteen year old. He brushed it clean, cleared his throat and then pushed his glasses up to wipe the dampness away from under his eyes. 

At least his love for Eddie Kaspbrak was immortalized somewhere. He begrudgingly walked back to the car and pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

He had missed calls from Mike, clearly worrying over him being in Derry, and a few text messages from Bill that he promptly disregarded to open the Twitter app.

He clicked on ‘new post’ before he lost his resolution. 

_ “A lot of people always ask me: Is anything that ever comes out of your mouth not a joke? Well skipping over the joke of what goes in my mouth, in a related note, yes. Surprise! I’m gay!”  _

He blinked at his screen for several seconds and watched his notifications climb alarmingly. His phone buzzed to life in his hand and he saw glimpses of his publicists name, his manager, Bill, Bev-

He powered off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. A surprised bark of laughter shot out of him and he shook his head and glanced back at his car.

He was out. Despite what this dirty little town had tried to instill in him, he was an out gay man. 

He felt alive. He felt like he had while they killed the clown. The fear, the anguish, it was all there as well. Different this time, but there. 

Still, he knew he could do this. 

He would burn Neibolt down until it was a pile of ashes and gone from Derry. Then the five of them that remained would move on with their lives, and Richie wouldn’t think about Eddie’s body being eternally trapped. Maturin said he’d save his body, and Richie knew better by now than to doubt him.

He drove silently down two blocks before turning sharply onto Neibolt.

He could see it, a pile of rotten wood, at the end of the street. Somehow it still managed to loom. The evil inside of it still made Richie’s stomach turn and although he had been there just a few short months ago, he felt the same as he had at thirteen when he parked in front of it.

“Fucking, time to do this!” He gritted out and grabbed the two gallons of gasoline he had hidden away in the back seat. 

He looked up the stairs that were still somehow standing and thought of the last time he had been there. 

Kicking and screaming in Ben’s arms. He had been so distraught he hardly remembered it. He glared at the rubble. 

“Fuck you for taking him from me.” He whispered as he stepped over the wreckage to get to where the main part of the house used to be.

_ “The house has power still, but the seven of you were always stronger. I’ll do what I can, Richie. Don’t fall for It’s traps.”  _

Richie startled at the voice and glanced back towards the street. A tiny box shelled turtle was facing the house. 

Richie let out a surprised laugh. He glanced back to the ruins. “I don’t think I really need to worry about a pile of bricks, do you?” He looked back but the turtle was gone. 

An ice cold gust blew through Derry and seemingly through Richie himself.

A flyer blew through on the gust and stopped at Richie’s feet. He could just make out a familiar pair of glasses.

He bent down to grab the paper and smoothed it out. His own face peered back at him:

**‘RIP** **  
** **WASHED UP GAY COMIC** **  
** **MOURNED BY FOUR FRIENDS WHO TOLERATED HIM**

**LOVED BY NOBODY’**

Richie tore the flyer in half and willed his heart to stop pounding in his chest. It wasn't going to work on him this time. His friends loved him. He knew that, he had faith in that. 

“ _ Richie _ ,” A taunting voice that plagued his nightmares carried over on the wind, “ _ I know your secret, and now everyone else does too!”  _ It cackled maliciously _. “Good thing Eddie isn’t here to see your sickness- _ ”

“Shut the fuck up.” Richie growled. “You’re dead. I held your heart in my hand and I crushed it with my friends. You’re done hurting people.”

_ “But Richie, your friends all have someone else, someone better. Nobody needs you. Nobody wants you.” _

“You’re dead. Your words don’t matter, nothing you can ever say will ever matter again because I’m not a-fucking-fraid of you!” Richie laughed hysterically. “I guess you shouldn’t have taken the one thing I’d give a fuck about, you stupid clown.” 

He marched over the splintered wood and started kicking away the debris. The wind roared. His shoulders sagged with relief when he spotted a tiny window of old red brick. The well.

He grabbed piece after piece of wood and threw it to the side. His hands ached and he was numbly aware of the array of splinters and scratches as he bled over each log and tossed them to the side. 

He pulled the letters out of his coat pocket and made sure all six were there. He pressed them to his forehead and thought of Stan. He ached when he thought about not getting to know the man he grew into. Richie let himself smile softly to himself as he thought of how Stan and how he was the funniest person Richie had ever actually known.   
He shook himself from his thoughts and dropped the letters down the well and uncapped the first gallon of gasoline. He heaved it up to his hip and poured the entirety of it down after the letters.

He made quick work of grabbing the second can and walking circles around the ruins, watching the gas glug out a trail behind him while he went. 

He got to where the front door used to be and pulled out a single match. 

The wind howled in agony around him as he struck the match and let it fall. The fire came alive around him.

He looked back up and found himself back at the well. “What the fuck.” He muttered.

Flames licked up the walls of the well and danced into the air around him. Every where he turned was a wall of fire. 

He could feel a flutter of panic bloom in his chest. His legs stayed unmoving as he tried to lurch towards the street. His feet seemed to be rooted to the spot. 

It didn’t need to carry on the wind for Richie to hear the maniacal laughter. 

“Fuck you. Fuck  _ you. _ Do what you want!” He cried desperately. “You’re dead and I’m doing this for them. I did what I came here to do. I still won!” Richie gasped as he choked on the smoke. 

He lurched toward the street again. His right leg broke free and he took one huge step forward and pulled on his left leg with all of his might. “You can’t hurt us anymore! You might want to pass on to the other ‘Eaters of Worlds’ that they might want to pick a different one!” 

His leg broke free and he ran forward through the flames. He could see the fire wrap around both of his wrists and try to pull him back, down the well and into the sewers. 

He trudged through the fire, dimly aware of the burning ropes of flame circling his wrists. He pushed through the rest of the way until he fell onto the gravel walkway. The fire from around his wrists finally fizzled out, his skin scarlet in its wake. 

He rolled onto his back and stared at the blaze until it slowly faded into nothing. 

Richie sprung to his feet and tears stung at his eyes as he stared at where the house once stood. 

There was no well, no broken wood, no debris or any sign that there had ever been a house there besides the large empty square of dirt. Neibolt was gone. Good riddance.

_ ‘Cleanse yourself of its touch _ .’ 

Richie didn’t need to look to know the Turtle wasn’t actually there. 

He took one last look at where Neibolt once stood before tearing himself away. 

Taking the jump into the barrens alone was a lot scarier, and he was sure if Eddie visited him in his dreams again he’d get a full berating on the risks and how unsafe it was to jump from a cliff into the dirty barrens water all alone. 

He opened his eyes under the murky water and saw a golden light shining out from all in front of him. Maturin. 

He kicked off of the rocky bottom and breached the surface with a big gulp of air. 

He felt lighter. He’d done what he came to do. It was time to move on with his life and better himself. It was what his friend’s all would want, alive or otherwise. 

His phone weighed heavy in his pocket. If it was actually waterproof like advertised, he knew he had a different world to return to once he turned it back on. The thought made his skin crawl. He was glad, in a way, that he had been moved to come out after rereading his letter. A part of him wondered if he ever would have otherwise.

A large, loud splash came from his left. As he turned and looked at it he could hear another to his right. 

Stanley Uris was gasping big gulps of air into his lungs. He looked over at Richie and smiled tiredly. He shrugged as if to say “what can you do?” 

“Stan?” Richie thrashed in the water over to get to him as fast as possible. He grabbed Stan’s cheeks and stared into the bemused face of his best friend from childhood. He could feel his eyes well up. It could easily be the clown fucking with him, there was nothing to make Richie believe otherwise, yet somehow he knew when he stared into Stanley’s tired face that this was real.

“Hey Rich. We owe you for the whole ‘bringing back to life’ thing. Man, you look like shit.” He smiled wryly. 

Jokes aside, he didn’t look much better. 

“Are- are you okay?” Could you ask that to someone who has died? Richie moved his hands to his shoulders. “You-  _ how _ ?”

_ “They are going to take some time to heal, Richie.”  _

Richie looked back to where the gold light had been, only now it was glowing brighter, almost blinding. Richie could just make out the ridges of a shell. 

He blinked at Maturin as the words clicked together in his head.

_ They _ .

He turned his head slowly to where he had heard a second splash. It was wanting the impossible. It was getting his hopes up high just after he came to terms with his new reality. It was a cruel dream in the middle of the night but never an actual possibility. 

Eddie waded in the water blinking at Maturin before he turned and met Richie’s eyes. He looked tired as well, but good. He smiled widely at Richie, bunching his makeshift bandage on his cheek up. 

“Eds?” Richie let out a soft sob. “This isn’t real, this-”

“ _ This is your reward for what all the seven of you have sacrificed to save this world. The list goes on and yet you offered up even more to sacrifice in order to destroy It’s lair, and in turn, freeing me. I used up the small amount of what I had left to bring back sacrifices that should have never been made. Richie, I am afraid we will have to cancel any future therapy sessions.”  _

Richie barked out a wet, surprised laugh.

_ “They will take some time to heal.” _ Maturin’s voice echoed throughout the barrens. “ _ Their bodies have to heal from the injury that caused their deaths. It will be harsh. He will be worse, _ ” A light shone towards Eddie. “ _ His organs are being woven back together with my magic. Death is a difficult thing, though life moreso _ .” 

The light flashed bright, washing the cavern in white before fading back to normal. 

Richie wasted no time throwing his arm around each of his friends and hauling them out of the water. 

They were both real, and solid in his arms. It made his head swim. 

He fell on the banks of the quarry and looked wildly between two faces he thought he’d never get a chance to see again.

“Rich, are you okay?”

Richie threw his head back in a laugh at that. “I think I’ll make it. I’m the only one here who hasn’t literally  _ died _ .” He gasped the last word out and clutched at his chest as he fought to get air into his lungs. He realized belatedly he was sobbing. 

“Richie, hey. We’re fine now. We’re both here and you did that. You saved us, Trashmouth.”

“Stan, we want him to  _ stop _ crying.” Eddie chastised. His voice sounded gravelly and weak. 

“Richie breathe with us, come on.” Eddie took a shallow breath in and held it before letting it out slowly. Stan hesitated but followed suit until the three of them were quietly breathing in unison. 

“Fuck,” He threw his arms around Eddie and buried his face into his shoulder and wept. He tangled his hand in his hair and tried not to think of the last time he did so.

Eddie wrapped his arms around him and Richie felt Stan’s hand smoothing out his back soothingly.

He was thrown back to months earlier with the rest of the Losers around him while he cried then. 

He felt a surge of love for his friends. 

“You sap.” Eddie murmured in his ear. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _SO_ sorry to have left you all off with that kind of cliffhanger big moment! I'm going through a bunch of health shit for about a month now and it temporarily left me kind of laid out and a little bit of a baby and I really didn't do much.  
> I'm still navigating through it but feeling much better overall. Updates still might not be as frequent as they used to be I feel _bad_ but a big chunk has already been written. It might be slow but it's coming!!  
>   
>  _tw for mentions of Stan's suicide_

Richie sat back some time later with a puffy face and ache in his head. 

He scrambled to find the next step, or next thing to say. When something impossible happens to you, what happens next?

“We need to figure out a game plan. We were planning on all meeting up at Bill’s at the end of the week, maybe we can just head that way? I’ll call everyone on the way.” He thought aloud and stood up. Stan followed suit with a stern nod. He wobbled but clutched onto Richie before he could fall. 

Eddie tried to push himself to his feet and grimaced when his arms gave out from underneath him.

“Fuck, you guys really are fucked up, aren’t you?” Richie could hear the panic in his own voice. 

Stan shot him a look. 

“I’m just really tired. The Turtle, Maturin, said we had to heal from how we died. I essentially went to sleep. He’s got it worse than I do.” He nodded towards Eddie with a grimace. “Did he…. Was it the clown?” His voice was almost too small for Richie to make out, and laced heavy with guilt.

Richie looked at him and then turned his attention back to Eddie. The thought of him skewered, and flying around the cavern crept into his mind and tightened around his throat until he couldn’t breathe.

He shook his head aggressively at Stan as they helped Eddie back up. “I - I can’t go there yet, Stan. I can’t. I’m sorr-”

Stan held up a hand and shook his head. “You don’t need to. I want to hear sometime. When you’re ready.” 

Richie nodded at him and then again to himself. 

“We need to find a place to crash for the night, at the very least.” He said.

They both looked at him tiredly, Stan with a wry smile.

“Let’s try to get your sorry asses up to my car.” Richie laughed. 

Richie sat in the idle car and glanced at his two friends in the rear view mirror. 

Stan's head was reclined back, his eyes were shut tight and he held a hand around Eddie's wrist on his lap. It didn't look like peaceful dreams. 

Eddie was slumped over on top of Stan, his head resting on one of Stan’s shoulders. Eddie caught his gaze and gave him a wobbly smile. The rest of his body was curled in on itself and Richie thought of what the Turtle said, of how much repair his body would have to go through to fully heal. He started the car and drove as as far from Derry as he could justify, leaving the entire state of Maine in the rear mirror as a little added fuck you.

Richie pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and stalled. If he went into the lobby with the two of them it was going to look like he drugged them or something. Plus, one person dripping wet from stagnant quarry water was better than three. 

He sighed and turned around to look at them. 

Eddie blinked at him owlishly with his big dark eyes. 

Richie felt his throat tighten again at the sight of them. He was afraid if he left he’d come back to an empty car. He didn’t think he could take it if this was one big hallucination due from breathing in the fumes of Neibolt burning down. 

He must have been making a face because Eddie frowned back at him and tried to sit up with a grimace. 

“What-” he stopped as his voice came out rough and gravely, cleared his throat and started over. “What’s wrong, Rich?” 

Stan propped himself up and looked over to Richie in worry.

“I just-” Richie sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. He fixed his glasses before looking back at him. “I’m afraid this is all going to be some sort of psychotic breakdown or hallucination or something. I don’t want to come back to the car and you both will be gone.” 

“Hey. I told you, I’m not a dream. Not Dream Eddie.” Eddie grabbed his hand and squeezed meaningfully. 

Richie felt his heart fall to his stomach and jump back up to his throat at that. “What do you-  _ fuck _ ! That was really you?” He thought of the declaration of love he made so airily waltzing around Mike’s house and the plastic cup he had chucked at Eddie’s head. 

“Yeah, dipshit.” Eddie laughed lightly. 

“We’re here, Rich.” Stan said, clearly unaware of the quiet panicking and flashing lights and alarms going off in Richie’s head. “I can go in with you if you want.”

“No, Maturin said you both had to heal from you know, dying.”

Stan made a face. 

“Richie-”

“I dragged you both to the car, Stan. You can carry my ass around for a week if you want once you’re all better, but you look like you’re about to fall asleep again already. You look better than he does,” he nods towards Eddie. “But that’s not saying much.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested weakly. 

“Your insides are being sewn together by  _ magic _ . He isn’t wrong.” Stan laughed lightly before growing serious. 

“I’m just tired, I feel weak, which makes sense… but maybe someone else seeing us would make you feel better?” 

Richie frowned at his logic. It was such a Stanley Uris thing to come up with that he hardly felt the need to check that he was real after he said it. 

“Stan the man! I could kiss you. I’ve got it! I’m going to pull up in front of the door like an asshole. They can make me move it after I get our room key.” He pulled up and parked in front of the large glass doors. He could see straight to the check in desk perfectly. “Alright,” He said, turning around. “Eddie, you’re in charge, I’ll be right back.” 

Eddie shot him a mock salute while Stan exasperatedly rolled his eyes.

Richie drummed his knuckles on the worn wood of the front desk as the hotel receptionist clicked frantically on the ancient computer in front of him. He frowned at the muck Richie was covered in but luckily didn’t press. 

Richie looked out the window and stifled a laugh as Stan waved overdramatically over to him. Eddie was laughing over his shoulder and lifting up a tentative hand. 

Richie wished he knew how strong he was. It was so hard to see him look so weak. Like Myra acted like he was. Like his mother always pretended he was, hell, wanted him to be. Richie sighed. 

They didn’t know Eddie. He wasn’t delicate or fragile. He wasn’t going to break. He’d been broken and he was still there, making ridiculous faces at him from the back seat of his car. 

Richie laughed and crossed his eyes back at him.

“Sir? Here’s your key?” Richie turned his attention back and paid for two nights. He shoved the key card in his pocket and hurried back to his friends. 

“Alright, men! This is our home for the next 48 hours. Unless we’re not feeling up to leaving by then and then it’ll be our home longer. I could have put us up somewhere nicer. This was just the closest ... maybe I’ll look at fancier places in the morning. You two died, you deserve a nice at least 3.5 star hotel, right?”

“You’re babbling. This is fine, Richie. I just can’t wait to sleep.” Stan groaned. “I need to wash all of this  _ Derry _ off of me.” He grimaced down at his quarry-soaked clothes. 

“So take a shower first, Staniel.” 

Stan sighed and nodded. He made it two steps into the room before having to brace himself on a rickety dresser. 

“Woah!” Richie grabbed him from under the arm with one hand while still supporting Eddie over the other arm. He kicked the door shut behind them. 

“Alright then! I guess I’m bathing you two!” 

“What!? Richie I just stumbled a bit, I’m sure I can manage!”

Eddie just threw his head back and laughed. “This is such an appropriate restart to my life. Total chaos.”

Richie scoffed a laugh but pulled the three of them towards the bathroom.

“Okay, well I guess I can run a bath for each of you and just peek in every once and awhile, make sure whoever it is doesn’t drown.” 

Stan went rigid in his arms. 

“I don’t want to be that guy, Rich, but I can barely keep my head up.” Eddie murmured. 

“I-” Stan’s voice caught in his throat and he gripped Richie tighter. “I don’t really  _ want to be _ alone in the bath.” The air felt heavy with his admission. 

Richie nodded once to himself. 

“Okay let me start the water. We’re doing this toddler style and I don’t want to hear literally anything because somehow this is the least weirdest thing that’s happened today.” 

Richie’s feet were quickly falling asleep from him sitting on top of his knees on them in front of the bathtub. Stan was on one end of the tub, Eddie on the other. 

“Just because there were bubbles available didn’t mean you had to use them.” Stan tried to sound irritable but it just came out endeared and amused. 

Richie swiped a hand through the sea of white bubbles and plopped it onto Stan’s chin. 

“Glorious beard, Stan. All my ex girlfriends  _ wish  _ they could have been such amazing beards. In their dreams.” 

“You’re such an idiot.” Eddie said fondly. 

“That’s how you’re going to come out to me, Trashmouth? Really?”

Stan laughed as he lathered shampoo gingerly into his hair. 

He was doing much better, mobility wise, as he had to begin with and as Eddie was still doing. 

Richie tried not to stare at the little white lines across each wrist. 

Stan caught him staring and put his hands under the bubbles. He opened his mouth but Richie shook his head. 

“Yeah I guess it is how I’m coming out to you, Stan the Man. I tweeted to the rest of the world but that can literally wait forever- I’m actually never unlocking my phone again.” He joked weakly, but debated trying to flush his phone down the toilet rather than check his messages and missed calls.

Stan frowned down at his wrists and went to delve into it a second time but Richie cut him off sternly. 

“You’re so tired, man. I’m not going to make you talk about that now, or ever, even. We can talk about it if  _ you _ want when you’re feeling stronger. Just know,” He took a breath. “Just know that I love you and I’m not- I’m not mad. Your letters are what got you guys back here, really. They helped more than you can know.”    
Stan blinked frantically and looked away from Richie. He nodded at the eggshell colored shower curtain aggressively. “Later, then. If I didn’t-then Eddie wouldn’t have,” he took a deep breath. “I love you too, Rich.” 

“You guys might love each other,” Eddie said, so casually and so unlike himself Richie knew he was not totally with it. “But Richie’s  _ in _ love with me.” Richie gaped at him.

“Eddie, darling, I love you all equally.” He jested after a moment of shocked silence. 

“Not fair to bring up dramatic tantrums to friends I thought were dead, Eds. Mourning people say all sorts of crazy things.” He made himself busy with washing Eddie’s hair somewhat aggressively, actively preventing him from saying anything else. Eddie was silent and seemed to shrink down under Richie’s hands. 

He could feel Stan’s eyes burn on his face but shook it off. Love confessions to your dead best friend’s ghost and to your married  _ straight _ best friend were two entirely different things, even if it was technically the same person.

“Eddie, no offense, you look pretty bad.” Stan piped up a few minutes later, cutting through the thick silence.

Eddie blinked over at him with huge dark bags under his eyes. His skin had a grey tinge to it that didn’t wash away with the bubbles or soap.

“Alright men.” Richie clapped his hands together. “Wash your bits and let's move on to the unconscious part of the evening. I think we all could use it.” 

Richie woke up to the sun shining in through the window, the curtains pulled just right so that it fell right in his face.

He turned to see Edde sleeping peacefully, mouth hung open and the same light snores Richie remembered from countless sleepovers from their youth. A glance at Stan told Richie he slept the same too; slightly rigid, all limbs to himself and a pinched, disappointed expression that Richie always felt was reserved for whatever stupid idea he came up with when Stan was sleeping. 

He groaned and sat up, careful not to disturb the sleeping man to either side of him. 

He crawled to the edge of the bed and crept out of the room, stopping only to grab his keys and phone from the table.

He glanced back at his friends and with a rush of warmth, felt a smile pull at his face. 

Eddie had stretched across where Richie had just been laying and was curled against one of Stan’s arms. 

Richie slipped out the front door as quietly as he could and sat at the cast iron chair and table in front of their room.

The morning was still quiet, the sun not quite all the way risen yet. There was still dew on the grass and everything smelled fresh and alive. It was a time of day Richie had always loved, yet rarely saw.

He powered on his phone and tried to calm himself down. 

It came alive and buzzed non stop in his hand. Message after message flooded his home screen. He scrunched his eyes closed and tried to take a deep breath to calm his erratic heart. 

He could hear the hotel door open and close behind him. 

"Hey, Eddie's still- woah what's wrong, Rich?" 

He opened his eyes to see Stanley in the process of sitting across from him, reaching his arm out to him with concern written all over his face. 

Richie could see the calculating, the searching all over Richie’s face for an answer. Stan always was too good at observing, whether it was birds or his closeted friend's panicked face.

"I came out and turned my phone on. I figured it was time to check the damage, once my phone catches up." 

As if on cue, his phone stilled in his hand. 

He unlocked it and let out a long breath. He had forty two missed calls. Half his management, half from the Losers. 

He tossed his phone on the table. 

"This was so stupid. I just tanked my whole career for something I can't say out loud to anyone besides my close friends without wanting to throw up." He gripped his hair tight and sank down

in his chair, his elbows on either side of his head the only things that held him up and the metal from the table dug in appropriately.

"I- fuck, Stan, I was trying to be brave." 

Stan said nothing but plucked his phone off the table and scrolled through it impassively. 

His eyes flicked up to meet Richie's. 

"It's a shit show, I'm not going to lie to you. It looks pretty messy on Twitter, which is what whoever Steve is mad about? Manager?"

Richie nodded miserably. 

"Yeah he is not happy about that and told you to stay off of it." He made a face.

"Richie! That is the  _ worst  _ coming out tweet!" 

Richie shrugged with a laugh. 

Stan laughed with him with a shake of his head and eye roll before his face dropped any humor when he looked down at the phone. 

"Please call any of us. This isn't about the tweet. Richie it is important.”

Stan looked up at Richie. 

"That was Mike, but there's messages from all of the others."

The phone started ringing, somehow louder and shriller than Richie could remember his ringtone ever being. 

He passed it to Richie and mouthed 'Bill' at him. 

Richie shook his head but didn't get any further before Stan reached over and answered the call.

"Richie? Richie, we have been  _ trying _ to call you all night. Is everything okay? We all fe-felt s-s-so-something. Our wr-wrists all b-b-b-burned at the same time and M-mike said you went to D-d-d-d-de-" he took a big breath, "Derry."

"Your wrists? What are you talking about Bill?"

“What are you doing in Derry, Rich?” 

Richie glanced up at Stan and followed his gaze to Richie’s wrists. He startled when he saw they were burned from the fire at Neibolt, only stark white, like they were old, faded burns., and they spiraled down to his hands the way the flames had when the house had tried to pull him in. His hands were covered in tiny cuts, splinters of wood surely scattered throughout them.

“Bill-”

“Th-there are these m-m-marks on our arms.”

“Bill, listen. It’s okay, I-”

“N-no, Rich. We can all be there by d-d-dusk, something clearly happened. We-”

“I burned Neibolt down.” Richie shouted over him.

The hotel door creaked open and Eddie staggered out. His face was sleep rumpled, lines pressed into his face from the sheets. He leaned heavily to the side and furrowed his eyebrows, shadowing his eyes even further than they already were. 

Stan jumped out of his seat and helped Eddie into it, all while keeping eye contact with Richie.

“You what? Why would you do something like that in the first place? We should all stay the fuck out of Derry. Richie, why didn’t you ask for help?” 

Bill sounded so angry and hurt, so worried, that Richie couldn’t even feel the usual smugness and pride he would whenever Bill went without stuttering.

“Because, Bill, you guys have things happening in your lives.” Richie could hear how short his tone was and took a deep breath. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t need help. I didn’t want to get you all involved. I hope none of us ever have to go back to that piece of shit nightmare town.”

“Richie, I know we talked about Eddie but, we saw how torn up you were. I think you should come stay with me or-”

“Bill.” Richie locked eyes with Eddie. “I’m fine. I’ll be at the get together and you’ll all see. You don’t need to worry about me, and I’m not even in Maine anymore-”

“We saw your tw-tweet, Richie, you’re not fine.”

“That’s Homophobic, Big Bill-”

“Richie! Be serious! You-”

“Look I gotta go.” Richie said and felt like he swallowed a bowling ball. “We’ll talk, just not now.” He sighed. 

“Love you, Trashmouth.” Bill said quietly with a defeated sigh.

Richie hung up and pushed his face into his hands. 

“Why didn’t you tell him about us?” Stan frowned.

“What exactly did your tweet  _ say _ ?” Eddie arched an eyebrow.

Richie barked a laugh and looked up at the two of them between his fingers. 

“I just can’t deal with them all right now, and Eds already looks like he’s going to drop d-” He stopped and took a big steadying breath. “Eddie needs to rest.” He glanced at him. 

“I want to see them. But, I mean I  _ could _ do without four more people fussing over me.” Eddie shrugged. 

“We’ll do whatever you think is best, Rich.” Stan cupped his shoulder and squeezed. “I just want to- I need to stop in Georgia. We can all go to Bill’s after. I need my- I have to see Patty.” He stared down at his hands.

Richie straightened as his heart sank. He was such an idiot. “Oh. Oh right. Your wives. You guys probab-”

“I served her with divorce papers before I went to Derry. I don’t need to see Myra until I’m strong enough to fight off whatever lawyer she comes at me with. If I go to her before I’m better she’ll never let me leave.” Eddie floundered for a minute. “She’s so much like- like my mom.” He rushed to continue. “It isn’t her fault. She deserves better. She deserves to be out of a loveless marriage, too. She’s just as much the victim of our marriage as I am.” 

Richie gaped at him. 

“She was fucking awful, man.” 

Eddie’s face soured and he shot Richie a dirty look. “Why-”

“I had to get  _ all _ the letters, dude. Let me tell you, it was near impossible to get it from her. I had to grab it when she wasn’t in the room and just book it. The way she talked about you, I-”

“Richie, shut up.” Eddie glowered at him. “Don’t you think I know how she sounds? She isn’t some villain. I-”

“I’d take Cruella de Vil over her any day.”

“Stop!” Eddie shot to his feet. 

“Woah, Eds, alright. Settle down, you’re not quite there yet strength wise.”

“Do not fucking call me weak.” 

Richie thought of his train of thought in the hotel lobby and swallowed the bile that filled his mouth. His head swam.

Stan sighed heavily. “I’m going to go to try to plot out the trip. Please don’t kill each other.” He shook his head, not without fondness and disappeared behind the door. He was always the best at knowing when to let the two of them fight it out.

“I’d never call you weak, Eds. You haven’t been weak any of the entire time I’ve known you.”

Eddie slumped back into his seat and glared over the table at him.“But,” Richie continued with his hands out in front of him in surrender, “You did fucking die and come back to life so let me fuss for a fucking day, okay?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and wouldn’t meet Richie’s. “Is this just  _ another _ crazy thing you do when you mourn?” He spat out quietly, but clear enough for it to bowl Richie over in his chair. He locked eyes with Richie and glared miserably at him before turning his glower down to the table.

“Right, alright. Well I think you should go back to bed, not because you’re weak but because you’re all sorts of pissy and I don’t have the fucking depth to handle it right now.” Richie stood up to his feet and willed his legs not to shake. “I’m going to go get clothes that will actually fit you two and supplies for a road trip.”

Eddie followed him into the room and shoved past to sprawl back out on the bed. Stan glanced over from the desk he had a map spread across. He blinked at Richie once before turning back to his task. It was the same exasperated impatience he had for the two of them when they were all kids. It was almost eerie how little some things changed.

“Get me a neck pillow.” Eddie said, muffled into the bedsheets. “And coffee.” He held out his arm and pointed towards the direction Richie was standing in. “And get me some fruit. Good fruit not nasty canned gas station fruit.”He thought for a beat, “also, fuck you.” 

Richie laughed despite himself and pushed the unease from the morning to the back of his mind. He’d deal with it later.

He made quick of his trip, both needing the air to breathe and get a grip on himself and panicking at being away from the two of them. It would be easier once other people knew, but Richie still had the image in the back of his mind of rolling into Bill’s driveway full of excitement but in reality having an empty car and broken mind. 

He had mostly convinced himself that it was impossible, that he had lost his mind in Derry and was in a sad hotel room all by himself. He was sure when he got back in the room nobody would be there. 

He threw his back into the door when he got back to the hotel. 

Stan looked up, alarmed. “Jesus, Richie. Was the Hulk impression necessary?” 

Eddie exhaled softly in his sleep on the bed.

Richie swallowed. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He saw Stan track it with his eyes.

“That’ll get better once other people have seen us.” Stan said with certainty. He squinted over at Richie. “Maybe you should, I don’t know, tell our friends so it isn’t just on you?” 

Richie rolled his eyes but didn’t reply. He was so irritating in such a Stanley Uris way that Richie couldn’t find it in himself to be actually annoyed. Part of him wanted to keep them to himself while he could. It was selfish, and Richie would probably benefit with knowing whether he was crazy or not sooner than later, but he pushed it to the back of his mind and sorted it onto the ‘deal with later’ pile. 

Richie threw all of their belongings into the trunk of the car while Stanley and Eddie changed into the clothes he got for them, Eddie’s sweats still wearing a bit too loose. 

They clambered into the car, Eddie swatting away any hands reaching to help him as he did so.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand!" Richie cheered and smiled over at Stan, who was jiggling his leg impatiently in the passenger seat, a map that he must have gotten from the lobby scribbled with his handwriting clenched firmly in his hand. Richie looked in the rear view and couldn't help smiling to himself as Eddie fluffed his pillow and curled against the window, already halfway to back sleep. 

Roughly nine hours later Richie was rubbing the sleep away from his strained eyes as they traveled down the lonely highway, black just barely after sunset and barren save for an occasional tree lit up by the headlights. 

“Okay, let’s get off at the next town, it’s two exits from now. We’ll get back at it in the morning.” Richie yawned. 

“What? No, let’s keep going. We’ll be able to get there by morning.” 

Richie eyed Stan wearily and glanced at Eddie who was back to sleeping for the millionth time on the drive so far. Richie knew it was a good thing, but it still made worry gnaw away at his gut.

“I’m tired, Stan. I-”

“No, I’ll drive. I’m feeling a lot better, really.” 

Richie sighed and pulled off on a wide shoulder. He parked the car and turned his entire body towards Stan. Eddie was sitting up in the back watching them wearily. 

“Stan, I’m sorry but I just don’t know if that’s a good idea, man. I’m going to pass out sooner than later, and you’re still healing. You’re too weak to-”

“I’m not though, Rich. The Turtle, it said that we were healing how we died. I just bled out and essentially fell asleep. I’ve been sleeping all day and I just-” He gripped his hair and slammed his head back on the headrest. “I have to get to Patty.” 

Richie pushed himself to get past the details Stan skimmed over of his  _ death _ . He opened his mouth, unsure of where exactly he was going when Eddie piped up from the backseat.

“I actually feel a lot better already, too. I can tell,” He grimaced. “I know I still have a ways to go. But I already feel so much stronger than I did yesterday.” He sat back and stared hard at Richie. “I’ve had to have it much worse than Stan did.”

Visions of Eddie crumpled in the cistern, blood running from his mouth and blossomed across his front all came rushing forward in Richie’s mind. 

“Eddie. I’m sorry-”

“It’s not your fault, Stan.” Richie said sternly. 

“It’s  _ nobody’s _ fault but that fucking clown, and I was happy with it being just one out of six that were down there that died. I’d do it aga-”

“Stop! Fucking stop.” Richie took a deep breath in. It came out shaky and he avoided Eddie’s hard gaze. 

“We don’t need to talk about it now.” Stan said to Eddie, though his eyes stayed locked on Richie. 

“If you guys are so adamant to keep going and that you’re fine, then I’ll pass the reins over. I’m gonna sleep and then take back over though, okay?”

Stan hurriedly agreed and took Richie’s spot in the driver's seat. 

Richie plopped in the back across from Eddie where it was roomier and easier for him to pass out. 

He ignored Eddie’s gaze on him, and his eyes fluttered close the second he touched the pillow. 

_ Richie could hear his own panicked, heavy breathing echoing across the stone walls.  _

_ “Guys?” His trembling voice reverberated back at him. He could hear running, splashing down a turn up ahead.  _

_ “Richie?” He could make Eddie out in the distance, propped up against a wall with his hand firm to his torso.  _

_ Richie ran towards him. He was nearly to him when his legs crumpled underneath him. He tried to find his footing but it fell out from under him, unable to hold his weight no matter how many times he tried. _

_ He glanced up at Eddie who smiled sadly, blood bubbling out of his mouth and dripping down his chin.  _

_ “No!” Richie started to crawl closer but everytime he looked up Eddie was further and further away from him. _

_ Screams started to come up from the tunnels surrounding them. Twisted, agonised screams. It was the rest of the Losers.  _

_ “Richie.” Eddie said again.  _

_ Richie looked back up at him and was faced with three spinning lights instead, blinding him and knocking the air out of his lungs. _

_ “Richie!”  _

“Richie. Hey, Rich, come on, wake up.”

Richie woke up to Eddie’s big, doe eyes, staring at him full of concern. 

“Is he waking up? There’s a rest stop in a few miles I can pull over there.” Stan shouted from the front of the car.

Eddie didn’t look away from Richie. His face was pale and he reached to Richie with shaking hands.

He gripped Richie’s wrists tight and let out a sigh of relief.

“He’s- He is waking up now. Hey, Rich, it’s alright.” He let go of one of RIchie’s wrists to smooth his hair back. “It was just a dream.” 

Richie just shook his head and slid his hand down to lace his fingers through Eddie’s. “It wasn’t. You were- We were in Derry and  _ It- _ ”

Eddie squeezed his hand tight and curled up next to him. “I’m here now. Richie, you don’t have to worry about any of that anymore. I’m back. I’m here- you brought us back.” His voice was impossibly soft. He ran his hand through Richie’s hair again soothingly.

The car was silent except for Stan sniffling quietly from the front seat. 

“Guys,” Richie croaked. 

“You don’t have to ever explain anything to us, Rich. We love you.” Stan said firmly. He glanced at him in the rear view with shiny eyes.

Eddie hummed and nodded. 

He smoothed his thumb against the back of Richie’s hand in a way Richie was quickly growing obsessed with.

“Eddie,” He started, his voice choked but Eddie shook his head. 

“Go back to sleep, Rich. I’ve got you.” 

Richie let out a soft breath and let the road lull him back to sleep, Eddie’s hand tight in his own. 

  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

“Guys, we’re here.” Stanley spun around in his seat. He smirked at Richie and glanced down pointedly. 

Eddie was slumped against Richie’s chest snoring softly. A pool of drool was soaked up by Richie’s shirt, a cool spot on his chest, and Richie tried not to acknowledge how thrilled it made him feel.

“Up and at ‘em, Eds.” 

Eddie blinked groggily before sitting up straight. The tops of his cheeks were dusted pink and he glared out the window. 

Richie followed his view to the large house they were parked in front of. It had a cute courtyard with a little bench overlooking a bird bath. There were little bird feeders in the tree and Richie had to suddenly fight the emotion that was bowling him over. It was just all so  _ Stanley. _

“She isn’t here.” Stan said quietly, bringing him back to the present. “I have to go to her sisters, I should have figured she wouldn’t want to stay here.” He grew silent as waves of guilt seemed to radiate off of him.

“Stan. You’ve said she loves you and that she’ll listen. She’ll understand.” Eddie said.

Stan shook his head slowly.

“People who love you, they understand you. She probably will understand you better than you do.” Eddie pressed.

“Yeah, Stan. Plus, we’re here for you no matter what.” Richie added awkwardly, not having the ‘came back from the dead bond’ the other two seemed to have forged. 

“I have to talk to her, probably best alone. Would you guys mind waiting here?” He wore at his bottom lip anxiously. “There’s a key in the bird bath.”

“No problem, Stan the man.” He gripped Stan’s shoulder tight. “You’ve got this.” 

Richie sighed, his back against the front door as soon as they were inside. He glanced at Eddie who waved goodbye to Stan out of a big bay window. Richie thought about all of the birdwatching that had to happen in that spot as well with a rush of endearment.

“He’ll be alright. Who can’t love Stan?”    
Eddie nodded and walked into the living room. He let out a low whistle and laughed softly when he looked back to Richie.

“Stan’s fucking house looks identical to his dad’s old basement. I wonder if he even remembered it.”

Richie blinked and looked past him.

He wasn’t wrong. The chairs were classier and in better shape than Mr. Uris’ furniture ever was, but the layout was the same and the sofa looked  _ identical  _ to the one from their childhood. Richie only knew for certain it wasn’t the same one, because he had broken it by jumping around on it like an idiot at fourteen.

Eddie smirked at him, seemingly reading his mind.

“Was the night you broke that couch the time we moved all the furniture to the walls to dance?”    
Richie threw his head back and cackled. Stan had invited them to stay the night and then demanded they all get up at the crack of dawn to catch sight of a rare bird that was near impossible to spot at any time besides daybreak. The night ended with Stan, Ben, and Bill sleeping upstairs in Stan’s room, leaving Richie and Eddie, both hyped up on sweets, with the basement to themselves. Richie had been elated to spend time alone with Eddie. 

“To ‘Thriller’, yeah, it was that night.” Richie said, sobering up at the hard look Eddie was giving him.

He started pacing the house, taking in all of the little pieces and details of Stan’s life he hadn’t been there for, conveniently ignoring Eddie tailing him the entire time. His gaze had a weight to it and Richie didn’t think he could ever be ready for the conversation Eddie was clearly wanting to have.

“Rich,  _ hey _ , talk to me.” Eddie walked right into Richie’s back. “ _ Oof.” _

“Eddie, listen. We talked, I don’t think we need to say anything more. I was upset. I don’t want you to feel weird, we can forget about it.” He started to ramble.

Eddie pushed Richie’s shoulder. 

“You’re an  _ asshole _ .”

“What?” Richie stumbled back as though there was any real force behind the shove.

“You heard me. Do you think I just poofed back to life? We had to think of something, something that we wanted to come back to, to live for. Something we felt strongly about and I thought about  _ you _ . You don’t get to just blow me off, Rich. I know it’s a lot but I fucking died. You don’t get second chances like this.” He took a deep breath and grabbed Richie’s hands.

“I fucked up my first shot of life. My whole adult life I never did anything I liked, I never did anything I was proud of until I saved your ass from the deadlights. I’d die for that one moment, for you to be safe, over and over again. I’m not buying your ‘ _ I was just mourning’ _ bullshit.”

Richie shook his head wildly but Eddie just squeezed his hands and kept going. 

“And I don’t want to! I love you, dumbass. I’m gonna do this right this time. I’m sure the high of being undead will go away and I’ll be a huge, anxious pain your ass later but for now- I’m just so fucking happy.” 

Tears stung in his eyes as Richie pulled Eddie close and bent down to bury his face in Eddie’s collar. 

Eddie let go of Richie’s wrists to wrap his arms tightly around him. 

“I-” A sob pulled itself from Richie’s chest and cut his words off. But Eddie seemed to understand.

“Richie, it’s okay. I  _ love _ you, it’s okay.”

“It isn’t though.” Richie pulled back but kept his arms firmly around him. “I watched you fucking die, Eddie. I see it everytime I close my fucking eyes. I held you- I held you when you-”

“And then you  _ brought me back _ .” Eddie stared at him firmly. His dark eyes were a honey warm caught in the sunlight. 

“I love you so much.” Richie whispered. “I’ve loved you this whole damn time. If I wake up in Derry tomorrow and this was all a dream, I don’t know  _ how I- _ ”

“Shhh,” Eddie pressed a finger to Richie’s lips before standing on the tips of his toes to press his lips to Richie’s. 

Richie melted into it. The kiss eased the tension from Richie’s shoulders, soothed the ache in his heart and cleared his mind from all the dark shadows that had engulfed it since he had returned to Derry in the first place. 

His fingers and toes tingled with it. His teeth knocked against Eddie’s as his lips dissolved into a smile. 

He leaned back and Eddie beamed at him. 

“I threw myself out of the closet in a near death experience induced panic, and I’m going to be shit at this for a while. It’s going to take some time for me to not be constantly terrified that this is all too good to be true.” 

Eddie laughed lightly.

“Well, we have all the time. I am going to give Myra whatever the fuck she wants to get this divorce done and over as quickly as possible. I’m also probably going to be less calm and collected and back to well, myself, sooner than later.”

“Yourself is the you I like anyway.” Richie shrugged. 

Eddie’s face turned pink and he pressed it into Richie’s chest and laughed again. 

"Come on," he pulled Eddie back into the living area and only let go to push the coffee table up against the far wall. "Let's make some room to dance, shall we?" 

After much convincing, Richie rearranged while Eddie turned the TV on and made himself at home, browsing through the music and playlists saved on the streaming account that was logged in under "Stan." 

"Oh my god." He laughed and hit play. 

Richie looked over at him in question and burst out laughing when Kermit the frog's voice drawled out of the speakers. 

" _ Rainbows are visions, but only illusions, and rainbows have nothing to hide!"  _ Richie crooned along in Kermit's voice. 

"Stan hated your Kermit impression. He said he couldn't hear the fucking frog without thinking of you constantly impersonating him." Eddie laughed and linked his arms around Richie's middle.

Richie nodded. "Why the hell is he jamming out to rainbow connection then? Although fitting for our gay awakening to each other, I have to admit."

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled up at him as they swayed side to side. 

"I bet it made him think of you, even if he didn't really know. You're a hard one to completely forget, clown magic or not."

Richie's eyes burned. "Fuck you, Eds. Stop making me cry." 

Eddie's laugh rumbled against Richie's chest. 

They continued swaying through the Muppets song, and the Wham song that followed. 

"I know you moved all the furniture so we could dance, but is it horrible to say I'm exhausted now?"

"You have a pretty solid excuse, Honey." Richie reasoned and held him a bit tighter at the thought. 

"Hm." Eddie pulled the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch off and motioned for Richie to follow his lead to lie on the floor. 

As soon as Richie complied, Eddie snuggled up onto his chest. They both seemed to be touch- or even just love-starved and Richie would thank a giant sentient turtle every day for the rest of his life for giving them this. The contrast to before, how lonely and empty he felt - Richie shuddered. 

Eddie said nothing but brought Richie's hand to his chest, where his heart was beating strong.  _ Alive _ .

"Okay, I'm about to stop being cute. Sleep now." Eddie grumbled. 

Richie burst into laughter, Eddie's head jostled around on his chest and peaked an eye open to glare up at him. 

"Who said you're being cute, Kaspbrak?" 

"Your face that I've been able to read since before I was double digits, Dipshit." Eddie smirked. 

Richie laughed again but ran a hand through Eddie's hair and let himself relax, Eddie's heart lulling him to sleep under his hand. 

  
  


“What the hell have you two done to my house?” 

Richie stirred awake in surprise to find Stan standing over him, hands on his hips. He clearly was attempting to look stern and annoyed but the wry smile tugging at his lips gave away his amusement. 

He raised his eyebrows and glanced down pointedly. 

Richie followed his gaze to find Eddie still sleeping soundly on his chest, heavy and grounding with a puddle of drool from his open mouth seeping through Richie’s shirt. It was obnoxiously the most enamored Richie had ever felt. 

He flicked his eyes back up to Stan and smiled widely. 

Stan smiled back warmly and knowingly. 

“About damn time.” He murmured. 

A woman walked up to his side and looped her arm around his and waved down to Richie. 

She could only be Stan’s wife.

“Oh!” Richie sat up with a start and winced as Eddie rolled onto the floor with a huff. “You must be the lovely Patty- oh  _ fuck, _ sorry Eds!”

“Richie!” Eddie glared groggily at him with one eye still shut. He sat up but squeezed Richie’s leg once before smiling up at Patty. “Good morning.” 

“Hello.” Patty smiled and Richie instantly felt welcomed. She looked over at Stan with puffy eyes and so much love and adoration Richie felt like he was intruding on something. 

“Stan’s told me so much about everything- things that I didn’t realize needed explained until he did, but also about all of you growing up together. It’s so nice to meet you, and I fully expect embarrassing stories about him.” 

Richie barked out a loud laugh. “Oh, Pats, my dear, you’ve come to the right place. I’ll tell you mine if you tell you yours.”    
Patty laughed and it reminded Richie of the windchimes outside of his parent’s house. 

“Well I have  _ plenty _ of embarrassing Stan stories. Wait until you hear about when we were birdwatching way up in the mountains in Colorado and he had to use the bathroom.” 

“ _ Patricia _ !” Stan pretended to try to cover her mouth to silence her but both were laughing. 

“I’m assuming you’re Richie?” She asked after the laughter died down.

“The one and only.”   
“Oh god, hopefully.” Eddie teased.

Richie chuckled but held a hand out to shake. Patty gently pushed it aside and wrapped her arms around Richie and squeezed him tight. 

“Thank you,” She whispered brokenly into Richie’s collar. “Thank you for bringing him back and for loving him as much as I do.  _ Thank you _ .” 

Richie stood there dumbly before bringing his arms back around her and squeezing her tight. It wasn’t quite the same, but Patty understood the pain Richie had felt. Patty would have burned that decrepit abandoned house down right alongside him, and Richie would have let her. 

Richie stepped back and blinked furiously while Patty dabbed under her eyes with the bottom of her sleeve. 

Eddie stepped to Richie’s side and pulled Richie’s arm over his shoulders. 

“You don’t need to thank me. It was pretty selfish, ultimately.” He grinned down at Eddie.

“Get used to being thanked, Rich.” Stan said quietly.

Patty leaned over and kissed him chastely. 

“So what did Stan tell you?” Eddie asked her. 

“I told her everything.” Stan said bluntly. “She handled it all gracefully, evil alien clown and all.” 

“Really?” Eddie blinked at her. “I have a hard time believing it and I lived it.” He thought for a moment and shrugged. “And died it.” 

“Ah! Nope, no dying talk.” Richie waved his arms around them obnoxiously. 

“I believe Stan.” Patty said. “I’d believe him anyway, but the coming back from the grave really sold it.” 

Richie nodded sagely. “That  _ would _ do it.” 

“So what the fuck did you do to my living room?” Stan laughed. 

Richie looked around at the furniture pushed to the walls. 

“What, Uris, you never feel like dancing?” Eddie laughed. 

“Is that what the kids are calling it?” Stan smirked. 

“Oh my god, shut up.” Richie laughed but could feel his face burn hot. 

They settled around the Uris’ kitchen table. After a few hours, food was ordered and on the way and spirits light. Richie’s face hurt from smiling. 

He watched Stan and Eddie bicker about some boring business numbers topic they had lost him on and was struck by how little some things changed. It was like there was never even any time apart. 

His chest hurt with the love of his friends. Of all of the Losers.

His smile faded and he thumbed at his phone on the table.

“Richie?” 

He looked up and met Patty’s gaze. 

“I think I need to make some phone calls.” 

The table grew quiet and Eddie started to reach for Richie before pulling back. 

He decidedly patted Richie awkwardly on the arm which felt entirely inappropriate given his tongue had just been down Richie’s throat just hours ago. 

“Do you want some support?” Stan asked.

Richie shook his head and pushed his chair back, wincing at the horrid screech the legs made against the wooden floor. 

“No, not at first. I don’t expect them to believe me without proof, so don’t uh, go anywhere.” Richie shot him a finger gun and over exaggerated wink.

He wandered outside and ran his hand lightly over the bird bath. It seemed Patty had neglected filling it since Stan’s death.

He made himself comfortable on the bench nearby and finally unlocked his phone.

He swiped away all of the tweets, and all of the angry emails and texts from his management. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he scrolled past his missed calls. He owed his parents a call, even if the mere thought of it made him want to hide under the covers of his bed like a small child.

He got into his contacts and didn’t have to think for very long to decide on the first call. 

“Richie? Where are you?”

“Hey Mikey.” Richie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have kind of a lot to say, and I knew you’d listen.”

Richie started with the therapy and kept talking up until the point of pulling up at Stan’s house. Mike, for good or bad, kept silent the entire time. Richie half entertained the thought of the call dropping halfway through but just when he went to ask if anyone was there Mike let out a long shaky exhale.

“Richie, I want you to know that we love you.” Richie frowned and coughed out a laugh. “Okay? I love you too?” That was not on the list of reactions he’d been anticipating.

“I’m going to call Bill and we’ll call you back, okay?” Mike was speaking in a slow, soft voice. It felt all wrong. 

Mike hung up and Richie was left to his own devices. He caught Eddie’s gaze through the large bay window and watched as his heavy brow furrowed in worry. Richie was just about to try to convey the odd call when his phone lit up in his hand.

“Hello?” 

“Richie, sweetie where are you? Are you okay?” 

“Bev?”

Bill cut Richie off, breathing heavy and talking fast. “Rich- If you’re really seeing them then it has to be a trick. You need to leave! Give us your address, I can fly somewhere close, I-”

“You guys don’t believe me? Mike?” Richie shot to his feet with disbelief and a surprising wave of hurt. 

“Rich, it’s not that we don’t believe that you think you’re seeing them, but-”

“That I  _ believe _ I’m seeing them?” 

“Richie, what would you think if it was one of us saying this?” 

Richie’s breathing calmed and he sunk back into the bench. 

He knew what he would think; that his friends lost their minds or that something evil and other wordly was messing with them for a third time. 

“I’ve looked, Richie. I never found anything about bringing people back. I looked through every book I had access to.” 

Richie felt a stab of guilt at Mike carrying even more burdens on his shoulders alone. 

“What about a video call, maybe?” A voice asked softly from behind Richie.

He jumped and spun around to see Eddie watching carefully. 

“What, Rich?”

“I, uh- can I video call you guys?

Richie wasted no time hanging up the phone and shaking off the feeling of it being all wrong. He stared hard at Patty, Patty who could see them as well and was his only saving grace of fully convincing himself he had lost his mind. 

“They’re real. They’re here.” She whispered softly as she set her laptop up in front of him. She squeezed his arm gently.

Richie swallowed and nodded. 

He didn’t have to wait long for everyone to join. Bill sat anxiously in one screen, eyeing all of his surroundings like any of them would come to life with no notice, which was fair. On the other screen Mike sat with Beverly and Ben squished close on either side of him. 

“Hey, guys.” Richie croaked. 

Bev frowned but none of them said anything.

“I know this is weird, so much more than weird. I get it, I do. I want you guys first to meet the lovely Patricia.” 

Patty stepped up and waved. 

“Hi. Call me Patty.”

“Uris?” Mike asked.

“That’s the one.” Stan placed a hand on Patty’s shoulder and leaned into view of the camera. 

“Stan!”

Bev and Ben were both yelling excitedly and gripping each other and Mike, who was staring in disbelief and muttering what sounded like a broken, choked apology. Bill had immediately broken down into tears at seeing one of his best friend’s from childhood. 

“Hey guys.” Stan waved before looking over the table at Eddie who was watching it all unfold with a constipated look on his face. Richie could feel himself smiling as he relaxed further into his chair. 

“Richie! Does this mean? Is- is he b-b-back?”

Everyone on the screen stopped moving save for Bev wiping discreetly at her eyes. 

“Eds,” Richie started but Eddie was already leaning in. He leaned on Richie to squeeze into frame. “Not dead.” He said awkwardly.

Richie stifled a surprised laugh at that. 

“How do we know that it’s really them?” Bill asked, drying his tears. “This could be a trick from the clown. Richie was vulnerable and It could have taken advantage of that.” 

Richie prickled at the unintentional jab. 

“It’s them, Bill.” He tried to keep the heat out of his voice. 

“Richie, we all want it to be them. It looks and sounds like them, but-” 

“Bill, when we were nine you burst into tears when Richie told you he thought you stuttered because you were a broken robot. Stan couldn’t stop laughing and it took a whole week for you to get over it even with your mom talking to Richie’s.”

Bill’s face soured. 

Richie couldn’t help but grin at the memory. He had felt bad, naturally, but considerably less with Bill telling him their friends weren’t actually there.

Bill opened and closed his mouth before frowning towards Eddie. 

“I believe.” Bev said.

“I don’t understand why you had to go by yourself.” Bill finally said softly. 

Richie could see Ben nod his head slightly and Mike avoided looking at the screen.

“I couldn’t- I didn’t want to make all of you go back to Derry. I didn’t know this,” he gestured between his two friends, “would happen. I know I should have maybe asked for help…” He stared down at his hands. 

“I think part of what Richie sacrificed in getting this task from Maturin and then doing it is what brought us back. Who cares about the rest? I get one ‘back to life’ request and it’s to not fight over this.” Stan said stubbornly.

Eddie snorted. “Nobody told me about this request. I’m going to wait on mine, you played your cards too quickly, Uris.” 

Everyone laughed. 

Stan launched into plans that they had all made before the call at dinner. He and Patty would spend the next day or so resting and doing damage control and then they’d fly to Bill’s a day before the planned get together. Eddie wasn’t feeling up to flying so the two of them would be traveling by car, leaving soon to get there in time. 

Richie half listened and soaked up all of his loved ones being around him, alive and solid and real. 

He caught Ben’s eye who glanced over to Eddie and back to Richie subtly with a quirk of an eyebrow in question. 

Richie flushed and felt like a teenager when he nodded quick, and small. 

Ben beamed at him and rejoined the conversation, nobody any wiser. 

Richie sat back, Eddie’s chin practically on his shoulder now, and let out a breath it seemed he had been holding for close to thirty years. He listened to his family make plans around him.

Eddie was determined to start driving out that same day, but Richie was hesitant to leave Stan so soon. 

Plus, he thought it would be better if Eddie had another night’s rest under his belt before they hit the road, but he wasn’t going to be the one to actually voice that.

Eddie finally relented and they spent the remainder of the evening laughing and bickering with their friends until one by one they logged off to head to bed. 

“Goodnight, see you both in the morning.” Stanley pulled them each in for a tight hug. Patty waved goodnight and before he knew it Richie was alone with Eddie again. The house felt warm but significantly emptier without all of their friends laughing and yelling over each other. 

“What a night.” Richie yawned. Eddie murmured in agreement and ran his fingers lightly on Richie’s arm. He moved like he was coming in for a kiss before redirecting and making a constipated looking face down at the floor.

“Alright, I’ll see you first thing in the morning. I’m kind of excited to go on a big old road trip.” Eddie smiled. “I’ll take the room on the left. Night, Rich.” 

He left without waiting for Richie to reply.

“I love you.” He popped his head back out of the door before retreating immediately again.

Richie stood there, a bit dumbfounded alone in the Uris kitchen. He had expected to go to bed with Eddie tonight, hell he had sort of expected to go to bed with Eddie from now on  _ every night _ but maybe that was foolish. 

Richie felt like he had whiplash from what he was or wasn’t with Eddie, and was bone tired from the day's events. He dragged himself to the guest room left for him and crawled into bed. Alone.

He felt a sudden crippling loneliness. He had, afterall, had Stan and Eddie with him for the past several nights one way or another. 

_ ‘They are alive, though’ _ , he told himself.

He would take Eddie Kaspbrak in any context he could and he wouldn’t let himself be greedy with it. 

He was asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

When he woke up at half past two in the morning, heart racing and images of blood and sewage fresh in his mind, he blinked the room into a blurry view and startled when an arm wrapped around his middle.    
“Shhh, I’m here.” He could feel the breath from Eddie’s hush whisper fan against the shell of his ear. 

Richie opened his mouth to say - anything- a thank you, an apology, an explanation. 

Eddie shushed him again and curled up closer around Richie’s spine. 

“I’m sorry I got so in my head. I should have been in here the whole time.” Eddie said in a low voice, seemingly mostly to himself. “You’re okay, Rich. We’re all okay and the fuck away from Derry. Go back to sleep.” He stroked his thumb lightly against Richie’s arm.

The second time Richie fell asleep it was just as sudden, but instead of drifting into the sea of dark memories and horrible visions of gore and fear, he stayed put where he was, anchored to the bed with Eddie’s grip. 

When he woke up the next day he was pleased to find Eddie still wrapped sound him. At some point Richie had rolled over and was now facing him.

Eddie looked young when he slept. No worries creasing his heavy brows or doubt in his big doe eyes. Richie was delighted with the realization that he still had freckles scattered across his nose, though they were fainter than when they were kids. Richie spent nearly all of his adolescence thinking about those freckles and it sent a thrill up his spine to think of all the time he’d spend revisiting them now. 

Sunlight washed peacefully into the room, painting everything a soft gold color. 

Richie stayed unmoving until Patty rapped on the door to let them know breakfast was done and she’d put a new pot of coffee on. 

Eddie blinked awake and fixed his large eyes on Richie. 

“Sorry I didn’t share a room with you to begin with.” He whispered. He started gnawing at his bottom lip until Richie surged up and replaced Eddie’s teeth with his mouth. He smoothed it over with his tongue and kissed him deeply.

“Good morning Eds.” 

Eddie blushed furiously, deepening the freckles with it, to Richie’s delight. 

“Let’s get up before they think we’re boinking.”   
Eddie shoved at him and sputtered a laugh. 

As Richie followed Eddie out into the hallway he could see him disapprovingly mouth ‘boinking’.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update might be a bit slow for the next one, I've caught up to what I had already written and will need to work on the reverse bang I signed up for!! It's all coming I just don't know in which order or how soon lol   
> Thanks for being patient!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a good amount of this pre-written, but will be trying to upload bi-weekly around the beginning of the week! _hopefully_  
>   
>  Please let me know what you think!!!


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